BUTTERNUT 


BUTTERNUT  JONES. 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 


A  LAMBKIN  OF  THE  WEST 


BY 

TILDEN    TILFORD 


NEW   YORK 

D.   APPLETON   AND    COMPANY 
MCMIV 


COPYRIGHT,  1903,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


PublisJied  November,  1903 


T574 
but 


Co 
KARL   HENRY   LOGUE 

WHOM  I  HAVE  LONG  LOVED,  WHOSE  NEFARIOUS 
SCHEMES  HAVE  BEGUILED  ME  INTO  MANY  EXPLOITS, 
FROM  TEACHING  A  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  TO  CRUIS 
ING  AMONG  PIRATES,  BUT  NEVER  INTO  WRITING 
BOOKS,  I  PRESENT  THE  GENTLE  BUTTERNUT 

T.    T. 


M597423 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGI 

I.  A  PRAIRIE  MATINEE      .     *   „     •     .     »       i 

II.  THE  LAMBKIN  AND  THE  LADY  ...     20 

III.  "GENERAL  CUSTER" 34 

IV.  TROUBLE  ON  THE  TWIN  BAR.     ...     51 
V.    THE  RIVER  ROAD 67 

VI.  CAPTAIN   KITTY  MAKES  A  CALL      .     .     78 

VII.  KING  o'  THE  PLAINS      ......   104 

VIII.    TREACHEROUS  MOONLIGHT 116 

IX.  THE  GREEN  FORK  DANCE      .     .     .     .130 

X.    A  PREVIOUS  INCIDENT 14? 

XI.  THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR       .     .154 

XII.  CATHERINE  TAKES  THE  SADDLE  .     .     .179 

XIII.  THE  UPPER  FORD 193 

XIV.  THE  SENATOR  MAKES  A  PURCHASE  .     .  209 
XV.  "NEVER  A  WORD  OF  LOVE!"     ...  225 

XVI.    OKLAHOMA 239 

XVII.    THE  LONG,  GRIM  LINE 251 

XVIII.  AT  THE  BLAST  OF  A  BUGLE    ....  262 

XIX.    BILLY  is  GALLANT 271 

vii 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XX.    "!F  I  WERE  GOING  TO  BE  HANGED!"  275 

XXI.    THE  LAMBKIN  SEES  HUMOR  ....  283 

XXII.    A  FEW  HOSTILITIES 293 

XXIII.  THE  PASSING  OF  A  WHIPPOORWILL      .  301 

XXIV.  THE  SOUNDS  OF  A  DIRGE      .     .     .     .310 
XXV.    THE  TURTLE  MAKES  A  SPEECH      .     .321 

XXVI.  IN  MISSOURI 336 

XXVII.  BALANCE  ALL! 350 


viii 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 


CHAPTER    I 

A  PRAIRIE  MATINEE 

THE  Lambkin's  cabin  stood  first  on  the 
left  of  the  lane  as  you  went  toward  the  house. 
It  was  without  architectural  ornament,  being 
built  on  the  same  simple  plan  as  the  cook's 
and  the  other  cowboys'  quarters,  but  you 
would  know  it  in  a  crowd.  It  may  have  been 
the  wild-rose  vine,  climbing  the  wall  by  the 
little  east  window,  or  the  double  row  of 
larkspurs  running  from  the  door  and  airily 
enclosing  a  spotless  walk,  which  gave  it  dis 
tinction;  it  is  only  known  that  there  was 
something  about  Butternut's  abode  which 
pleasingly  arrested  the  eye. 

The  Lambkin!  Butternut!  Where  did 
he  get  these?  The  last  he  had  brought  with 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

him  on  the  day  he  anchored  at  the  "  Circle- 
B";  the  other  had  been  plastered  to  him 
during  his  first  month  of  service,  and  though 
he  had  early  given  the  lie  to  its  fitness,  he 
was  too  late,  for  it  had  grown  to  him,  and 
he  can  never  lose  it  now.  It  may  be  that  the 
very  paradox  helped  to  keep  it  in  place,  such 
are  the  surprising  ways  of  the  West. 

From  East  Texas  he  hailed,  which  is  as 
different  as  Massachusetts  from  the  cattle 
country,  but  having  passed  his  latter  years  at 
a  Middle  State  college,  you  would  hardly 
have  gathered  that  he  was  from  the  pine- 
woods.  Tender  in  years  and  greener  than 
spring  in  his  new  field,  he  had  arrived  in 
quest  of  a  veteran's  place  and  honors.  Hav 
ing  worked  his  way  through  school,  by  the 
same  process  he  proposed  to  eventually  con 
trol  a  ranch  or  two,  and  it  was  this  lamb-like 
confidence,  this  superb  innocence,  that  first 
stupefied,  then  fascinated  the  foreman  into 
taking  him  on  trial.  Within  a  week  it  was 
learned  that  his  extreme  fastidiousness  came 
not  from  weakness,  and  that  his  smooth,  quiet 
manners  and  gentle,  elastic  speech  arose  from 
neither  timidity  nor  the  arrogance  of  conceit. 

2 


A    PRAIRIE    MATINEE 

At  the  end  of  a  month,  enrolled  as  a  regular, 
he  had,  with  that  ready  adaptation  which  was 
part  of  his  nature,  assumed  the  cowpunch- 
er's  garb,  while  he  talked  "  hawss  "  like  a 
native,  his  speech,  rarely  faulty  as  to  gram 
mar,  beginning  to  flow  in  the  soft  twang  of 
stock-land.  But  while  frequently  in  jocular 
mood,  and  playfully  reviling  his  fellows, 
never  did  he  lose  that  veneering  of  quiet,  de 
licious  reserve.  His  care  for  appearances  was 
shown  in  a  hundred  ways — by  the  use  of  his 
razor  thrice  a  week,  as  well  as  the  way  he 
groomed  his  pony,  by  the  cleanliness  of  his 
dress,  by  the  polish  of  his  spurs;  but  had  all 
these  things  not  done  so,  the  fact  that  he 
owned  a  library  of  twenty  volumes  would 
have  brought  him  fame  in  the  land.  His 
"  calico  "  pony  was  the  sleekest  of  the  fold, 
and  though  he  was  never  flashy,  his  neckties 
were  known  as  far  east  as  the  Big  Arkansas. 

It  has  been  said  that  his  cabin  was  pleas 
ing  to  see,  but  on  the  occasion  now  in  mind 
"  Scotty  "  was  not  out  to  inspect  either  the 
rose-bush  or  the  larkspurs.  He  was  inside 
the  Lambkin's  shanty,  for  the  reasons  that  the 
night  was  heavy  and  the  weather  was  wet,  and 

3 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

he  had  been  some  hours  in  bed.  (As  the  dis 
trict  physician,  living  at  the  Circle-B,  Scotty 
had  privileges.)  Across  the  room,  by  the 
west  window,  he  had  been  sleeping  until, 
along  toward  midnight,  the  cowboy  had 
calmly  driven  a  legless  boot  rgainst  the  wall, 
over  his  head.  As  Scotty  sat  up  with  a 
wrench,  a  soft  metallic  drawl  came  clearly 
through  the  gloom,  above  the  riotous  swish 
of  the  rain: 

"  I  think  there's  somethin'  clawin'  on  our 
door." 

Scotty  was  about  to  suggest  that  by  mak 
ing  less  noise  he  could  probably  assure  him 
self  on  the  point,  when  the  next  words  re 
proached  him.  The  Lambkin  was  feeling 
along  the  wall  toward  the  candle  on  the  table 
among  his  books,  as  he  said: 

"  My  apologies  to  you,  sir,  but  I  didn't 
want  you  to  take  me  for  an  intruder.  You 
might  have  disfigured  me." 

He  had  lit  the  candle  now,  and  as  he 
moved  his  shadow  from  the  door  there  came 
a  wild  scratching  on  the  outer  side,  followed 
by  a  long,  low  whine  of  melancholy.  At  once 
he  went  to  the  door  and  let  a  wanderer  in 


A   PRAIRIE    MATINEE 

out  of  the  storm,  getting  a  severe  wetting  for 
his  pains.  For  the  rain  was  coming  with  the 
wind  and  sweeping  with  fury  through  every 
crack  and  crevice.  So  Butternut,  when  he 
turned  from  the  door,  was  right  thoroughly 
drenched,  while  "  Snuffles  "  was  wetter  than 
the  drowned.  The  cowboy  had  merely  smelt 
of  the  storm ;  the  dog  had  lived  in  it  so  many 
hours. 

Butternut,  clearing  away  his  books,  lifted 
the  animal  on  to  the  table,  and  inspected  him 
with  critical  eye.  He  was  a  coarse  breed  of 
Skye  terrier,  about  half  grown  and  most  un 
promising  to  look  at,  but  he  had  the  Lamb 
kin's  sympathy  from  the  start.  His  wet  hair 
was  blacker  than  the  night  out  of  which 
he  had  come,  and  dripping  smooth  on  his 
strangled  body,  shone  and  glistened  in  the 
flare  of  the  candle.  At  first  he  appeared  em 
barrassed,  but  anxious  to  make  friends,  and 
presently  he  ran  snuffling  about  the  table, 
shivered,  and  put  his  icy  muzzle  in  the  Lamb 
kin's  face.  Though  the  howling  wet  breath 
outside  was  but  middling  cool,  he  had  dwelt 
in  it  long  enough  to  get  a  chill,  and  as,  un 
like  Butternut,  he  could  not  shed  his  clothes, 

5 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Scotty  took  the  rag-barrel  from  its  corner, 
kicked  it  into  staves,  and  started  a  blaze  for 
his  accommodation.  Then  he  gave  him  a 
biscuit,  smuggled  from  the  supper-table,  and 
the  animal  ate  handsomely,  snuffling  his 
thanks. 

"  Where  do  you  s'pose  he  blew  from?  " 
questioned  the  Lambkin,  as  the  wanderer 
snoozed  before  the  fire,  his  nose  on  his  paws. 
Scotty  shook  his  head.  He  had  picked  up  a 
broken  collar,  slipped  from  the  traveler  with 
his  entrance,  and  now  flung  it  on  the  table, 
its  nickel  tag  toward  the  light.  "  You've  been 
hungerin'  for  romance,  Lambkin;  I  think 
you've  got  it  here,"  he  said. 

Butternut  seized  the  leather  and  inspected 
the  tag  eagerly.  Certain  confidences  Scotty 
had  enjoyed  by  reason  of  a  steady  and  cordial 
association  (he  frequently  passed  the  night  in 
the  other's  shanty,  for  he  loved  his  conversa 
tion  and  books)  told  him  that  the  Lambkin, 
in  coming  West  to  be  a  cowboy,  had  expected 
a  certain  reward  in  the  excitement  or  ro 
mance  which  he  had  imagined  the  new  life 
and  scenes  would  bring.  Only  yesterday  he 
had  confided  to  Scotty  his  disappointment  in 

6 


A   PRAIRIE    MATINEE 

this  respect.  More  than  once  had  the  doctor 
surprised  in  him  a  maiden-like  sentiment,  and 
now  as  the  cowboy  scanned  the  name-plate 
on  the  leather,  the  flush  which  his  compan 
ion's  words  brought  suffused  him  to  the  eyes. 

"  Catherine  Cloud,"  he  pronounced,  with 
relish.  "  Another  stranger — Miss  Catherine, 
the  *  oldest  inhabitant '  don't  know  you.  The 
plot  deepens." 

He  hung  the  leather  on  the  corner  of  a 
picture,  and,  moving  to  the  window,  peered 
out  into  the  howling  night.  "  I  trust  she's 
not  abroad  in  this  weather;  but  nothin'  can 
be  done  till  daylight." 

However,  before  returning  to  bed,  he 
stood  a  candle  at  each  window. 

The  next  morning  they  found  Snuffles, 
awake  before  them,  familiarizing  himself 
generally  with  the  "  lay  "  of  the  cabin.  But 
ternut  had  laid  his  boots  horizontally  on  the 
puncheon  floor,  and  finding  the  pup  up  to 
his  middle  in  one  of  them,  took  him  gently 
by  the  tail.  But  Snuffles,  with  a  smothered 
yelp,  only  explored  the  deeper  into  the  tun 
nel,  as  though  bent  on  finding  another  outlet. 
Then  Butternut,  yanking  him  out  bodily,  de- 

7 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

livered  a  terrific  shriek  and  kicked  the  boot 
into  a  remote  corner.  For  Snuffles  had  been 
slaying  a  centiped,  and  nothing  could  spread 
more  terror  through  the  Lambkin  than  one 
of  these  numerous-legged  reptiles.  He  ac 
cordingly  petted  and  praised  the  pup,  and  the 
two  became  friends  for  all  time.  It  was  not 
long  afterward  that  he  made  Snuffles  his  ad 
jutant  and  began  taking  him  out  to  hunt  for 
lost  yearlings. 

Meanwhile,  never  a  word  from  the  adju 
tant's  mistress!  The  Lambkin's  inquiries 
went  wide,  extending  as  far  north  as  the 
Staked  Plains  and  eastward  along  the  rails  of 
the  Southern  Pacific,  but,  as  he  had  guessed, 
the  "  oldest  inhabitant "  knew  naught  of 
Catherine  Cloud  or  of  Snuffles's  origin.  True, 
the  somnambulistic  agent  at  the  railway  sta 
tion,  ten  miles  distant,  said  that  he  had  either 
witnessed  or  dreamed  how  a  small  black  dog 
escaped  from  a  baggage-car  one  rainy  night, 
but  there  had  been  no  "  short "  report  from 
the  crew  confirming  this  fantasy;  and  But 
ternut  shrank  from  connecting  a  railroad 
with  the  affair,  suggesting,  as  it  did,  that  the 
fair  unknown  might  be  dwelling  two  thou- 

8 


A    PRAIRIE    MATINEE 

sand  miles  away.  Thus  the  weeks  went  by 
until  it  seemed  doubtful  if  his  romance  would 
ever  grow  beyond  a  strip  of  leather  suspended 
across  the  corner  of  a  picture. 

The  adjutant,  maturing  rapidly,  soon 
grew  into  a  coarse-haired  dog  of  under  size, 
but  though  of  singularly  discouraging  aspect, 
was  wonderfully  keen  and  appreciative.  But 
ternut,  regarding  him  always  with  admira 
tion,  said  it  was  the  stock  of  his  ancestors 
creeping  out.  He  found  many  names  for  the 
five-eighths  of  him  which  was  not  terrier,  fa 
voring  of  course  the  nobler  breeds,  such  as 
St.  Bernard,  Mastiff,  or  Great  Dane,  and 
adapting  these  in  an  amazing  way  to  the  par 
ticular  exploit  in  mind. 

Snuffles  developed  into  a  valuable  hand 
among  the  steers.  Not  on  the  grand  round 
up,  where  his  lack  of  endurance  would  have 
counted  him  out,  but  in  the  every-day  gather 
ings  of  a  few  cows  and  a  few  yearlings,  which 
came  up  as  incidents.  Being  clever  and  quick 
with  his  legs,  he  could  dodge  in  and  out 
among  a  cluster  of  steers  with  a  rapidity  that 
was  dazzling.  He  came  so  near  to  being 
everywhere  at  the  same  time  that  it  was  diffi- 
2  9 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

cult  to  dispute  it,  though  never  a  hoof  nor 
horn  struck  him.  They  often  tickled  his  ears, 
or  brushed  the  bristles  of  his  scrubby  neck, 
but  he  inevitably  escaped.  Butternut  once 
vowed  that  he  had  seen  Adjutant  Snuffles, 
while  endeavoring  to  flank  a  galloping  two- 
year-old,  pass  under  the  animal's  belly  with 
out  ruffling  a  hair,  but  of  that  there  is  a  doubt. 
He  was  always  so  fond  of  the  adjutant  that 
it  is  likely  there  were  times  when  he  overdid 
his  praise. 

One  noonday  they  went  into  the  hills  back 
of  the  ridge  field,  and  from  there  into  the 
prairie  that  lay  behind  the  hills.  Rumor  had 
reached  them  that  a  bunch  of  a  hundred  or 
more  wild  steers  had  been  seen  heading  south 
ward  by  Skull  Creek,  and  it  was  possible  that 
a  few  of  the  Circle-B  brand  were  among 
them.  If  so,  Butternut,  aided  by  Adjutant 
Snuffles,  would  cut  them  out  and  change  their 
course  toward  the  uplands. 

"  Terrapin,"  the  calico  pony,  moved  at  a 
rhythmic  gait  over  the  plain,  and  the  dog 
gamboled  gleefully  beside  him.  The  Lamb 
kin  rocked  easily  in  the  saddle,  and  looked 
with  pleased  eye  at  the  country  round.  He 

10 


A   PRAIRIE    MATINEE 

had  seen  it  all  before,  but  for  some  reason,  on 
this  particularly  fine  afternoon,  it  seemed 
fresh  to  him,  and  he  rejoiced  to  be  abroad. 
Occasionally  he  whistled  or  sang,  or  smote  his 
pony  in  the  flank,  and  once  he  bent  over  like 
a  greenbrier  and  catching  the  adjutant  by  the 
slack  of  his  hide,  hoisted  him  banteringly  in 
the  air. 

Soon  a  line  of  brown  knolls  ruffled  the 
horizon  ahead,  and  he  knew  that  beyond  them 
lay  the  creek.  The  adjacent  valley  was  spot 
ted  with  many  cattle,  and  the  drove  he  was 
seeking  he  hoped  to  find  within  a  mile  or  two 
of  the  ford.  Presently  leaving  the  worn  trail, 
he  journeyed  diagonally  across  the  plain, 
Snuffles  whisking  blithely  in  advance,  and  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  in  this  direction  brought 
them  to  the  top  of  the  last  rise  before  the 
creek,  over  which  the  Lambkin  rode  briskly, 
sweeping  at  a  lively  lope  into  the  valley. 

The  level,  as  he  had  expected,  was  dotted 
with  stock  of  many  brands,  but  to  these  he 
gave  no  attention.  His  gaze  at  once  skirted 
the  belt  of  cottonwoods  lining  the  stream  to 
where,  in  a  bend  in  the  timber,  were  gathered 
the  wickedest  collection  of  "  long-'orns "  he 

ii 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

had  seen  in  many  days.  Large,  lean,  and  low 
browed,  they  were  the  very  meanest  of  all 
the  mean  breeds,  their  brand,  the  "  Cross-S," 
being  long  notorious  from  its  association  with 
vicious  stock. 

Butternut  was  on  the  point  of  reining  in 
his  steed  when  disaster  was  brought  upon  him 
by  a  song.  The  musical  "  kick-rick  "  of  a 
giant  grasshopper,  wheeling  his  sidewise 
flight,  smote  the  air  suddenly,  and  the  bronco, 
shying  in  affright,  bundled  violently  to  the 
earth.  The  Lambkin  lay  morosely  on  the 
ground  the  next  instant,  with  a  helpless  leg 
under  him,  and  knew  even  before  he  stirred 
that  he  was  unable  to  rise.  A  grinding  pain 
shooting  the  length  of  his  body,  bade  him  lie 
still,  and  this  he  did,  save  his  head,  which  he 
lifted  in  time  to  see  the  calico  pony  limping 
toward  the  creek  and  his  big  sombrero,  cir 
cling  away  on  edge,  settle  crown  upward  a 
dozen  yards  from  him. 

And  now  began  a  most  untimely  business. 
Scarce  a  minute  had  elapsed  since  the  mishap 
before  one  of  the  Cross-S  steers  espied  him, 
but  gave  him  no  particular  heed.  When  next 
the  animal  looked,  however,  Butternut  ftad 

12 


A   PRAIRIE    MATINEE 

remained  so  mysteriously  still  that  he  ogled 
his  head  suspectingly.  Finally,  a  stupid 
wonder  taking  hold  of  the  brute,  he  fixed 
his  wicked  gaze  on  Butternut  and  held  it 
there.  Then  another  caught  his  look,  and 
that  was  two,  then  another,  which  made 
three. 

Now  every  one  knows,  in  the  cattle  coun 
try,  that  there  is  something  about  a  strange 
and  silent  object  on  the  plain — especially 
when  it  is  obviously  alive — which  excites  be 
yond  all  understanding  the  average  "  long- 
'orn."  If  still  and  sinister  enough,  such  an 
object  can  fill  him  with  mingled  curiosity 
and  fear,  and  finally,  if  he  be  of  a  certain 
vicious  species,  he  becomes  enraged  from 
sheer  terror,  and  then  he  is  a  bad  customer, 
known  not  infrequently  to  challenge  tradi 
tion  and  attack  men.  The  Lambkin  knew  this 
perfectly,  and  he  knew  also  that  he  had  left 
his  pistol,  in  its  holster,  hanging  on  a  peg  at 
home;  and  as  one  after  another  of  the  steers 
looked  his  way,  then  eyed  him  fixedly,  then 
came  a  step  nearer,  he  began  to  feel  a  keen 
mental  discomfort  which  came  not  from  the 
suffering  in  his  leg. 

13 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Unable  to  stir  without  racking  with  pain, 
he  had  lain  motionless,  regarding  the  curious 
cattle  with  listless  gaze,  but  the  peril  of  his 
predicament  now  flashing  upon  him,  his  look 
became  steadfast.  By  no  means,  however, 
was  he  yet  afraid.  Too  long  was  he  accus 
tomed  to  having  cattle  of  all  ages  yield  to  his 
hand.  But  despite  this  confidence,  he  was 
soon  employing  the  tactics  of  the  desperate, 
which  is  to  laugh.  Then  he  knew  he  was 
afraid.  He  strove  to  persuade  himself  that 
the  hovering  steers  were  like  so  many  mon 
keys  trying  to  appear  ferocious.  They  looked 
ridiculous,  he  argued,  ogling  him  in  that 
manner.  One  giant  bull  in  particular  amused 
him  by  coming  up  in  advance  of  his  comrades 
and  gazing  at  him  with  an  expression  of  pro- 
foundest  stupidity.  He  felt  like  getting  up 
and  twisting  this  fellow's  tail.  Strange, 
though,  he  thought,  that  none  of  them  could 
divert  their  eyes  from  him,  and  strange,  too, 
that  they  should  continue  to  come  nearer. 
The  foremost  of  the  brutes  were  now  scarcely 
twenty  yards  away,  and  he  saw  that  instead  of 
terror  the  frenzy  of  the  baffled  was  in  their 
gaze.  No  longer  able  to  deny  his  peril,  he 


A   PRAIRIE   MATINEE 

began  to  strike  his  hands  upon  the  earth  and 
to  jabber  insanely  at  the  sky.  A  wild  fear 
went  hammering  at  his  breast,  bewildering 
him  with  a  sensation  which  he  hated  and  bat 
tled  to  keep  away.  The  cattle  crowded  near 
er,  swelling  in  number  until  all  the  horizon 
seemed  filled  with  horns — glistening  horns 
that  bristled  uglily — horns  that  were  keen 
and  polished  and  deadly. 

Butternut  looked  into  the  eyes  of  the  for 
ward  steers,  and  thought  the  afternoon  was 
stiflingly  hot.  The  sun  streamed  relentlessly 
upon  his  bared  head,  and  as  the  fever  struck 
him,  an  awful  invisible  weight  seemed  to 
be  crushing  him  into  the  sod.  With  swollen 
eyes  he  looked  again  at  the  bristling  steers, 
and  saw  that  they  had  come  closer — closer. 
Not  even  the  ending  of  the  world,  he  thought, 
could  stop  their  advance.  Raising  himself 
on  his  shoulder,  he  swore  at  them  bitterly, 
finishing  with  a  groan  at  the  twinge  of  an 
guish  incident  to  the  movement.  Then  the 
fever  and  the  pain  and  the  frenzy  sent  him 
delirious.  The  air  grew  heavy  with  a  strange 
mist,  evolving  presently  into  curtains  of  gray 
fog  which  floated  in  folds  and  through  which 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

everything  leaped  and  fell  and  floundered 
drowningly.  He  was  lost  in  a  billowy  sea, 
amid  writhing  fantastic  shapes.  Or  was  it 
one  gigantic  dragon,  with  numberless  horns 
and  legs?  Before  he  could  decide,  the  objects 
dwindled  into  tiny  yellow  spots,  which  were 
joined  by  others  until  there  was  a  great 
swarm,  and  at  times  they  went  crowding 
everywhere,  rushing  and  tumbling  in  tangled 
ranks  and  files,  then  they  would  all  swing  into 
one  huge  yellow  ball  which  zigzagged  de 
moniacally  on  his  vision  and  came  bowling 
down  upon  him  alone!  His  head  went  IOWT 
and  lay  upon  the  sod.  A  planet  sat  on  his 
shoulders,  crushing  him  to  the  center  of  the 
earth. 

But  Adjutant  Snuffles  by  this  time  had 
grown  curious.  He  had  gone  no  farther  than 
the  creek,  where,  halting  in  the  hollow  under 
the  cottonwoods,  he  wondered  what  was  de 
taining  the  procession.  Having  been  far  in 
advance  at  the  time  of  the  mishap,  the  inci 
dent  had  escaped  his  notice;  accordingly, 
after  some  moments  of  patient  waiting,  he 
returned  to  the  level  and  searched  the  land 
scape  for  information.  Across  the  open  the 

16 


A   PRAIRIE    MATINEE 

full  significance  of  Butternut's  plight  would 
have  been  clear  to  a  calm  man's  eye,  but  the 
adjutant's  comprehension  gathered  nothing 
more  than  that  it  was  some  kind  of  a  game. 
He  accordingly  cast  about  for  his  part  in  the 
play,  which  was  not  apparent  until  his  eye 
fell  a  second  time  on  the  Lambkin's  sombrero 
lying  crown  up  in  the  open.  Then  his  pur 
pose  became  clear — he  must  annihilate  this 
thing.  He  had  despised  and  hated  it  ever 
since  Butternut  hung  it  over  his  eyes  and 
made  him  wear  it  twice  around  the  yard,  so 
to  destroy  it  was  clearly  the  only  thing  to  do. 
It  happened,  therefore,  that  the  adjutant, 
his  white  teeth  gleaming  expectantly,  dashed 
across  the  level  and  fastening  fiercely  upon 
the  big  hat,  began  to  shake  it  in  the  manner 
of  his  breed  when  engaged  in  a  bout  with 
rats.  But  this  was  no  barn-yard  task.  The 
sombrero,  of  the  texture  of  leather,  refused 
to  be  demolished,  and  all  the  adjutant  could 
do  was  to  swing  it  viciously  about,  and  bear 
ing  it  banner-like,  run  rapidly  back  and  forth. 
Presently  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  cam 
paign  might  be  waged  to  better  advantage  on 
higher  ground,  and  he  ran  up  the  hill  looking 

'7 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

west.  Along  its  summit  he  sped,  swinging 
the  banner  everywhere,  until  finally  it  caught 
the  eye  of  a  sunburnt  horseman  in  leggings 
who,  in  the  company  of  a  lady,  had  ridden 
into  view  down  by  the  ford. 

"  Splinter  my  stirrups!  "  said  this  man,  as 
rising  on  his  gaunt  legs,  he  regarded  the  mo 
tions  on  the  hill  very  curiously.  He  was 
Foreman  Jimsey  of  the  "  Twin  Bar,"  engaged 
upon  the  important  mission  of  escorting  a 
strange  and  handsome  young  woman  from 
the  railroad  station  to  his  headquarters. 

Now  Jimsey  knew  the  adjutant  well,  and 
beholding  his  singular  actions,  was  disposed 
to  make  inquiry.  He  therefore  addressed  a 
few  hurried  words  of  apology  to  the  lady,  and 
wheeling  eagerly  from  the  trail,  approached 
the  top  of  the  knoll  at  a  gentle  lope.  Soon 
he  was  near  enough  to  identify  the  object  in 
Snuffles's  grasp,  and  this  so  deepened  his  con 
cern  that  he  quickened  pace  to  a  swift  gallop. 

"  Curyis — almighty  curyis,"  said  he. 

As  for  the  adjutant,  his  one  desire  in  life 
being  to  demolish  that  which  he  had  so  long 
despised,  he  was  too  much  engrossed  to  even 
see  Jimsey  as  he  swung  over  the  hill.  Im- 

18 


A   PRAIRIE    MATINEE 

mediately,  however,  he  paused  as  the  sound 
of  rapid  shots  smote  the  slope,  and  with  his 
forefeet  in  the  pest  and  the  tough  brim  fast 
in  his  teeth,  turned  to  view  the  valley. 

Foreman  Jimsey  was  riding  like  mad,  and 
firing  his  big  pistol  into  the  Cross-S  ranks. 
So  close  was  he  that,  bending  low  to  a  level 
with  their  horns,  he  could  lash  the  weapon 
along  the  face  of  the  front  line.  They 
swerved,  bellowing,  and  some,  bitten  by  bul 
lets,  flinched,  but  again  he  crowded  them 
furiously  until  the  funnels  of  smoke  reached 
their  eyes.  They  wavered  an  instant,  which 
gave  him  the  field,  and  wheeling  and  stooping 
in  the  stirrups,  he  lifted  Butternut  by  the  belt. 
He  rode  next  in  a  half-circle,  then  in  a 
straight  line,  bearing  out  and  away,  and  it  was 
then  the  adjutant  howled.  As  they  swept  up 
the  slant  toward  him,  he  ceased  his  onslaught 
on  the  sombrero,  discovering  a  frantic  inter 
est  in  these  new  movements. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  LAMBKIN  AND  THE  LADY 

THE  spectacle  of  her  late  escort  galloping 
toward  her  with  a  man  across  his  saddle,  and 
a  dog  and  a  pony  trailing  after  him  was  some 
thing  which  the  young  woman  waiting  by  the 
ford  viewed  with  round  and  wondering  eyes. 

The  Lambkin,  on  a  blanket  in  the  shade, 
was  laid  close  by  the  creek,  and  under  fre 
quent  and  copious  applications  of  water  was 
quick  to  revive.  And  upon  opening  rational 
eyes  and  observing,  instead  of  a  menacing 
line  of  horns,  a  serious-eyed  and  smartly 
dressed  young  woman  sitting  by  him,  the 
effect  upon  him  was  battery-like.  Here  was 
romance,  indeed,  beyond  his  most  fantastic 
imaginings. 

Jimsey,  with  saplings,  thongs,  and  the 
skill  of  an  Indian,  was  contriving  an  "  am 
bulance  "  a  little  way  up  the  bank,  while  the 

20 


THE    LAMBKIN    AND    THE    LADY 

three  ponies  browsed  tranquilly  in  the  adja 
cent  bushes.  The  alert  adjutant,  having  by 
accident  frightened  a  dozing  turtle  into  the 
water,  was  barking  importantly  at  the  spot 
where  it  had  disappeared. 

The  Lambkin's  first  move  told  him  that 
his  leg  was  not  for  use,  but  through  the  re 
sulting  pain  he  gave  the  girl  a  weary  smile. 

"  You    seem    to    have    the    best    of    me, 


ma'am." 


She  made  a  little  commanding  gesture. 

"  You  must  keep  very,  very  still,"  she  said, 
and  tried  to  get  a  stern  note  in  her  voice. 

"  Oh,  I  wasn't  goin'  to  stampede,"  he  said, 
assuringly.  "  At  least  not  without  lettin'  you 
know.  What's  Jimsey  makin'?  " 

"  He's  fixing  a  stretcher  to  get  you 
home." 

"  Yes!  Then  while  we're  waitin',  ma'am, 
if  it's  all  the  same  to  you,  I'll  introduce  my 
self.  My  name  is  Jones — Charley  Jones." 

He  looked  at  her  in  such  an  innocently 
expectant  way  that  she  flushed,  hesitated,  then 
said,  simply: 

"  Miss  Thurston." 

He  knew  that  it  was  not  embarrassment 
21 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

that  had  made  her  hesitate,  for  she  had  the 
confident  bearing  of  one  bred  in  the  cities  and 
accustomed  to  talking  with  men. 

"  You're  not  long  in  these  parts,  Miss 
Thurston,"  he  drawled,  politely. 

"  I  got  here  only  to-day — from  Kansas 
City.  Mr.  Jimsey  met  me  at  the  station." 

"  You  visitin'  on  the  Twin  Bar?  " 

He  talked  well  for  a  cowboy,  she  thought, 
and  she  liked,  too,  the  cleanliness  of  his  polka- 
dot  tie. 

"  Not  socially,"  she  answered.  "  My 
uncle,  in  Missouri,  is  thinking  of  buying  the 
place,  and  sent  me  down  to  inspect  it."  Then, 
reading  the  further  questioning  in  his  gaze, 
she  went  on :  "  He  depends  a  good  deal  on 
me  in  such  matters,  spending  all  of  his  time  in 
politics,  and  I  really  know  more  than  he  does 
about  business  and  values." 

The  Lambkin  suppressed  a  strong  inclina 
tion  to  whistle. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  deliberatingly,  "  I  hope 
you'll  buy  it.  How  does  the  country  suit  you 
• — what  you've  seen  of  it?  " 

"  I  am  much  pleased,  except  that  it  looks 
dreadfully  lonesome.  But  I  suppose  that  is 

22 


THE    LAMBKIN    AND    THE    LADY 

because  one  can  see  so  far  on  the  plains.  Do 
you  never  get  tired  living  here?" 

"  Never.  It's  as  near  the  center  of  the 
earth  as  Rome." 

She  smiled  quizzically. 

"What  do  you  know  about  Rome?" 

The  Lambkin  flushed  as  he  said,  evenly: 

"Not  a  great  deal,  ma'am;  but  I've  seen 
it  once  on  the  map ;  and  since  they  built  the 
pyramids  there  I've  tried  to  keep  in  touch 
with  the  place." 

She  fidgeted. 

"  You  don't  talk  like  a  college-bred  man." 

"  I  can  talk  better  on  a  pinch,  ma'am." 

He  was  smiling,  and  she  fidgeted  again. 
This  quiet  man  with  a  drawl  and  a  broken 
leg  was  too  much  for  her. 

"  Why  do  you  wish  we  would  buy  the 
Twin  Bar?  " 

"  Well,  I  think  you'd  make  a  good  neigh 
bor,  and  that  we  could  entertain  you.  We've 
got  some  powerfully  distinguished  folks  on 
our  place — Bismarck,  Spartacus,  and  Gen 
eral  Custer " 

"Mercy!    Who  are  they?" 

"  They're  a  bear,  a  bull,  and  a  goat.    Bis* 

23 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

marck  and  the  General  belong  to  us,  but 
Spartacus,  he  just  comes  around  and  boards 
occasionally.  If  you  settle  here,  you'll  have 
to  pay  'em  a  visit.  You'll  like  them  amaz- 
in'ly,  and  you'll  interest  them  because — 
you're  a  most  interestin'  young  woman." 

She  looked  quickly  to  see  if  this  was  im 
pudence,  but  his  face  was  all  frankness. 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  thank  you,"  she 
said;  "  but  why  do  you  think  I'm  interest 
ing?  " 

"Well,"  drawled  the  Lambkin,  "partly 
because  you're  a  prospective  neighbor,  and 
partly  because  you've  lied  to  me." 

She  colored  violently  to  the  hair,  while 
he  went  on,  serenely: 

"  You  called  yourself  <  Miss  Thurston  '!  " 

"Indeed!" 

"  You  should  have  said  *  Catherine 
Cloud'!" 

She  did  not  know  whether  to  look  help 
less  or  defiant. 

"  Haven't  you  seen  anything  round  here 
that  belongs  to  you?"  he  asked,  gently. 

"  You  mean  the  dog— <  Boodler  '?  " 

"  We  call  him  '  Snuffles,'  ma'am.     The 

24 


THE    LAMBKIN    AND   THE    LADY 

way  you  looked  at  him  told  me  he  was  an  old 
friend  of  yours.  He's  grown  considerably, 
and  has  lost  his  collar,  but  you  recognized 
him.  Would  you  like  to  take  him  to-day, 
ma'am?  " 

She  could  not  know  how  much  this  cost 
him,  he  said  it  so  lightly. 

Before  she  could  reply,  Jimsey,  with  a 
knowing  smile  and  the  remark,  "  I  notice 
ye're  introduced,"  had  led  the  calico  pony, 
drawing  the  ambulance,  between  them.  He 
had  hitched  Terrapin  to  a  couple  of  poles, 
as  to  the  shafts  of  a  buggy,  and  stretched  a 
blanket  between  in  a  way  that  made  a  not 
uncomfortable  conveyance.  He  now  gath 
ered  the  Lambkin  in  a  roll  and  placed  him 
gently  on  the  stretcher,  then,  glancing  casu 
ally  at  the  sun,  turned  to  the  girl  with  regret 
in  his  face. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  can't  finish  the  journey  with 
you,  miss,  but  it's  only  an  hour's  ride,  and  you 
can  make  it  easy  'fore  sundown.  The  trail 
is  plain,  and  I  trust  you're  not  afear'd  to  try 
it  alone." 

"  By  no  means,"  she  said,  quickly.  "  I 
only  hope  you'll  get  him  to  a  physician  as 
3  25 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

soon  as  it's  possible — or  to  some  one  who  can 
manage  him,"  with  a  vengeful  glance  at 
Butternut. 

"  Jimsey,"  he  drawled,  irrepressibly,  "  she 
was  afraid  I'd  jump  a  tree." 

The  foreman  led  her  pony  to  her  and 
assisted  her  to  mount.  "  There's  only  one 
fork,  miss,"  he  called,  as  she  rode  splashing 
across  the  ford  and  ascended  the  opposite 
bank,  "  where  you  take  the  south  road.  Tell 
the  boys  they  needn't  look  for  me  till  morn- 
in'."  To  the  Lambkin,  as  she  disappeared 
beyond  the  horizon  of  the  bank,  he  added, 
warmly:  "There's  a  monstrous  peart  gal." 

She  had  made  no  move  toward  taking 
charge  of  Snuffles,  and  as  the  cowboy  was  not 
particular  that  she  should,  he  had  not  men 
tioned  the  matter  again. 

Jimsey's  praises  had  only  begun.  For  the 
first  three  miles,  as  he  led  the  injured  Butter^ 
nut  on  his  strange  vehicle  over  the  back  trail, 
he  talked  of  nothing  save  this  young  lady 
from  Missouri,  her  mission,  and  the  little  of 
her  history  that  he  knew.  Whether  this  was 
due  to  a  strong  friendly  interest  in  her  (it 
could  not  have  been  more,  for  Jimsey  was 

26 


THE    LAMBKIN    AND    THE    LADY 

already  a  much  involved  and  thoroughly  sat 
isfied  husband)  or  to  his  simple  desire  as  a 
loyal  neighbor  to  give  Butternut  the  news, 
is  not  known,  but  it  is  certain  that  no  topic 
could  have  been  more  to  the  Lambkin's 
choice.  It  may  be,  too,  that  the  foreman,  who 
felt  himself  a  born  match-maker,  with  that 
marvelous  perception  inevitable  with  the  spe 
cies,  had  scented  in  the  air  certain  delightful 
possibilities.  One  of  his  earliest  remarks 
after  leaving  the  ford  seems  to  sustain  this 
view: 

"  Lambkin,  if  I  was  single  and  know'd 
as  much  as  you  about  things  besides  stock,  I 
ain't  so  all-fired  certain't  I  wouldn't  set  up  to 
her!" 

Butternut  sought  to  elaborate  on  this  joke. 

"  You  think  there'd  be  a  chance,  Jimsey?  " 
he  said,  with  innocent  earnestness. 

Now  Jimsey  of  course  knew  that  this  was 
the  young  woman  whose  name  Butternut  had 
been  putting  at  the  end  of  a  question  and 
whose  dog  he  had  been  caring  for  these  last 
three  months,  and  nobody,  he  thought,  could 
want  a  better  start  than  that. 

"  Chaince,  Lambkin!  Chaince!  Why, 
27 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

I'm  blamed  if  you  ain't  got  a  double-girted 
cinch  and  a  down-hill  pull!  And  ain't  she 
a  lily-queen?  Well,  I  should  jedge.  Ye  see, 
I  know'd  she  was  comin'  'cause  Boss  and  her 
uncle  been  keepin'  the  mails  hot  for  two 
months,  and  last  week  come  a  letter  sayin'  he 
was  sendin'  his  secretary  and  niece,  i  Miss 
Catherine  Cloud '  —  I  come  nigh  jumpin' 
clean  out  o'  my  spurs  at  the  name — to  look 
over  the  place,  with  full  authority  to  close, 
subjeck  of  course  to  their  lawyers  approvin' 
the  papers.  Well,  of  course  they  was  a 
chaince  o'  there  bein'  two  ladies  o'  the  same 
name,  so  after  meetin'  her  this  mornin'  I  kept 
sorter  quiet  till  we'd  traveled  a  mile  or  so, 
then  I  said,  mighty  casual:  *  Your  dawg's 
been  in  this  section  some  time,  ain't  he? '  and 
you  orter  seen  her  face.  It  lit  up  like  fire 
works,  and  then  she  told  me  how  the  dawg 
was  given  her  by  some  friends  in  Los  Angeles 
she  was  visitin',  how  she  lost  him  from  the 
cyars  on  the  way  home,  and  how  he  must  have 
eat  up  his  tag,  for  she  never  got  track  of  him. 
Then  I  told  her  all  about  you —  Your  leg 
hurtin',  Butternut?" 

The  Lambkin  had  groaned. 
28 


THE    LAMBKIN    AND   THE    LADY 

"  Jimsey — Jimsey,  you  didn't  hint  that  I'd 
been  lookin  for  her?  " 

He  adroitly  reasoned  that  she  would  at 
tribute  his  anxiety  not  so  much  to  return  the 
dog  as  to  see  the  owner,  which,  being  true, 
was  something  he  of  course  preferred  to  con 
ceal. 

"  Lambkin,"  said  the  foreman,  in  a  pained 
voice,  "  you  mustn't  take  me  for  a  centiped. 
I  jest  told  her  you  was  a  gradgit,  and  that 
you'd  been  takin'  monstrous  good  care  o'  her 
dawg — nothin'  more." 

Butternut  could  now  understand  why  a 
sudden  playful  whim  could  have  caused  the 
girl,  knowing  him  as  her  dog's  keeper,  to 
withhold  her  name. 

"  She's  mighty  well  fixed,"  persisted  Jim 
sey.  "  Her  uncle  is  a  senator  or  somethin'  or 
other,  and  buys  ranches  for  pastime.  You 
better  set  up  to  her." 

The  Lambkin  laughed  uncontrollably. 

"  Jimsey,  you've  done  a  whole  lot  for  me 
to-day,  but  I'm  obliged  to  say  you're  a  damn 
fool." 

Nevertheless,  he  had  found  something  not 
unpleasant  in  Jimsey's  remarks,  and  they  set 

29 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

him  to  musing  in  a  sort  of  whimsical  fash 
ion.  He  believed  he  had  read  in  the  girl's 
eyes  that  she  was  a  long  way  from  him,  but 
that  did  not  prevent  him  from  dwelling  with 
relish  on  the  thought  that  he  had  passed  a 
half-hour  with  her  in  right  friendly  converse. 
He  began  to  wish  that  he  had  made  more  of 
himself  at  twenty-six  than  a  cowpuncher, 
and  to  wonder  if  in  the  game  of  life,  so  far 
as  he  had  traveled  it,  he  could  not  have 
played  to  better  advantage.  His  standards 
had  suddenly  become  what  he  supposed  were 
the  standards  of  this  girl  from  Missouri,  and 
in  the  pigeon-holes  of  his  past  he  went  delv 
ing  for  an  excuse  for  his  splendorless  show 
ing.  There  came  to  his  mind  that  period 
when,  by  managing  the  principal's  corre 
spondence  and  wielding  a  labored  nightly 
pen  in  the  interest  of  a  few  country  journals, 
he  had  made  his  way  to  the  end  of  the  college 
term.  Colorless  days  were  they  sometimes, 
when  his  only  luxury  was  butternuts,  and 
that  because  they  made  no  demand  on  his 
purse,  his  access  to  the  master's  store  (sup 
plied  by  a  thoughtful  gentleman  in  Ohio) 
enabling  him  to  keep  his  pocket  and  stomach 

30 


THE    LAMBKIN    AND   THE    LADY 

filled  when  other  ways  were  scant.  His  jocu 
lar  companions,  when  they  named  him,  had 
never  suspected  that  frequently  he  had  noth 
ing  more  to  eat.  The  way  he  had  surmounted 
obstacles  in  the  old  days  showed  that  he  had 
had  ambitions  and  delusions,  but  it  was  cer 
tain  that  these  had  not  troubled  him  through 
later  years,  while  his  poverty  had  continued 
to  flourish  nobly.  And  what  would  she  say 
to  that?  Thus  unconsciously  and  most  pre 
sumptuously  he  involved  the  girl  from  Mis 
souri  in  his  fancies  as  he  journeyed  with  a 
broken  leg  over  the  plain. 

It  was  three  weeks,  despite  Scotty's  best 
offices,  before  the  Lambkin  left  his  bed,  and 
six  before  he  again  bestrode  the  calico  pony. 
A  lover  of  books,  however,  the  whole  inert 
period  was  like  a  holiday  to  him,  save  when 
Jimsey  rode  the  twenty  miles  once  a  week  to 
see  him.  That  gentleman's  visits,  Scotty  gath 
ered  early,  were  as  much  a  source  of  exasper 
ation  as  of  pleasure  to  the  patient,  though  the 
young  doctor  never  stayed  to  hear  some  of  the 
matters  reported  on  by  the  garrulous  foreman. 
At  certain  points  of  their  talk  Scotty  would 
withdraw  to  water  the  larkspurs  or  feed  the 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

bear  Bismarck,  and  more  than  once,  reenter- 
ing  the  room,  was  he  just  in  time  to  see  the 
departing  Jimsey  catch  on  his  elbow  a  copy 
of  Vanity  Fair,  or  an  equally  heavy  volume, 
intended  for  his  head. 

"  Captain  Kitty,"  as  she  was  becoming 
known  throughout  the  section,  had  bought 
the  Twin  Bar,  and  her  uncle  was  expected 
down  from  Missouri  in  September.  She  had 
made  no  changes  on  the  rolls,  and  Jimsey 
thought  her  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  of  the 
range,  save  on  one  subject — Butternut.  The 
simple  foreman  was  disappointed  at  her  ap 
parent  lack  of  interest  in  the  cowboy,  which 
he  could  not  understand,  and  it  tried  his  heart 
not  to  be  able  to  say  on  his  weekly  visits, 
"  Lambkin,  she  asked  about  you."  Once  only, 
a  month  after  the  incident  at  the  ford,  had 
she  mentioned  him,  and  then  it  was  to  ask 
the  foreman  casually  if  the  cowboy  he  had 
taken  home  that  day  on  a  stretcher  ever  got 
well.  And  Jimsey,  swearing  under  his 
breath,  had  been  tempted  to  say  that  he  had 
died,  just  to  see  if  her  face  would  not  show 
that  she  had  been  "  puttin'  on  "  a  little. 

As  for  the  Lambkin,  he  would  have  been 
32 


THE    LAMBKIN    AND    THE    LADY 

surprised  indeed  had  she  sent  to  the  Circle-B 
any  particular  inquiries  about  him.  Her 
maidenly  reticence  was  in  perfect  accord 
with  his  very  high  opinion  of  her,  and  he 
would  have  even  been  disappointed  at  any 
expressed  interest  on  her  part.  It  was  this 
keener  appreciation  which  so  provoked  him 
with  the  senseless  Jimsey. 


CHAPTER   III 


"  GENERAL  CUSTER  " 


"  SPARTACUS,"  King  o'  the  Plains,  came 
with  a  soft  roar  from  the  underbrush.  His 
great  brindle  eyes,  gleaming  wickedly  in  the 
firelight,  looked  over  the  shoulder  of  Butter 
nut,  who  was  nearest.  His  back,  which  it 
took  a  tall  man  to  see  over,  hid  half  the 
horizon. 

"  Wow! "  cried  the  Lambkin,  with  a  mo 
tion  toward  his  belt.  McCormick,  the  giant, 
stared  helplessly  at  the  stars. 

"  Don't  ye  dare,  Lambkin!  "  he  wheezed. 
"  He  ain't  bellered!  "  This  in  a  chattering 
hope. 

So  they  waited,  breathless,  while  the  king 
sized  them  up.  Apparently  he  thought  well 
of  them,  for  he  only  roared.  Had  he  bel 
lowed,  it  would  have  been  time  to  clear  the 
vicinity,  as  in  that  case  they  feared  every  inch 
of  his  mountainous  body. 

34 


"GENERAL   CUSTER" 

"Wow!"  repeated  Butternut,  in  a  swift 
breath.  There  was  silence  for  a  time.  Mc- 
Cormick  stood,  his  back  to  the  fire,  stretched 
with  the  luxurious  sense  of  a  man  living 
again,  and  looked  thoughtfully  off  into  the 
shadows.  The  tread  of  the  king  came  faintly 
in  the  short  mesquit  woods. 

It  was  months  since  the  bull  had  been 
seen  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Circle-B, 
and  Talbot,  the  foreman,  and  his  cowboys, 
who  in  other  days  had  been  taught  to  go 
about  with  weapons  at  half-rest  and  a  wary 
eye  on  the  landscape,  had  begun  to  take  cheer 
in  the  belief  that  he  had  made  his  home  on 
some  distant  range.  To  have  him  turn  up, 
therefore,  in  this  unexpected  way  was  de 
pressing. 

Nobody  dared  to  say  they  owned  him,  as 
to  do  so  would  immediately  bring  them  to 
law  in  response  to  an  endless  list  of  damage 
claims,  while  his  brands  were  too  obscured 
by  the  scars  of  combats  to  show  where  he  be 
longed.  Without  question,  he  was  the  big 
gest  and  wickedest  bull  in  the  whole  brown 
country.  McCormick  had  on  one  or  two 
occasions  set  out  to  slay  him,  but  unfortu- 

35 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

nately  in  each  case  had  forgotten  it.  At  least 
it  was  supposed  that  was  the  way  of  it,  for 
on  no  account  should  it  be  hinted  that  the 
giant  was  not  the  man  to  carry  out  his  inten 
tions.  Most  persons  were  confused  when  it 
came  to  looking  Spartacus  in  the  eye.  He 
was  so  tough  and  massive  that  bullets,  even 
if  they  pierced  his  flint  hide,  might  have  noth 
ing  more  than  an  irritating  effect,  in  which 
case  men  were  few  who  would  care  to  be  on 
the  same  acre  of  ground  with  him. 

The  king's  horns  alone — monstrous  affairs 
which  he  wore  with  pride — were  a  long  his 
tory  of  battles,  being  cracked  and  chipped 
from  base  to  tip,  while  his  great  shaggy  face, 
battered  and  scar-marked,  told  of  a  life  of 
wickedness  and  crime.  He  fought  his  way 
from  range  to  range,  and  the  agitation  of  a 
stampede  was  his  delight. 

Talbot  and  four  comrades  had  been  for 
some  days  on  a  ride  up  the  divide,  and  were 
nearing  home  with  that  sense  of  peace  and 
restfulness  natural  to  men  after  a  season  of 
hard  service.  They  were  serenely  figuring 
upon  lying  around  for  a  spell,  allowing  them 
selves  to  be  disturbed  only  in  case  of  fire  or 

36 


"GENERAL   CUSTER" 

flood.  But  this  sudden  appearance  of  Sparta- 
cus  threw  them  into  a  fever.  It  was  surpris 
ing,  the  sense  of  deep  uneasiness  which  the 
presence  of  the  bull  could  put  in  a  man's 
breast.  Not  necessary  at  all  that  he  should 
be  at  one's  heels.  Anywhere  in  the  same  gen 
eral  locality  was  enough. 

On  this  occasion  McCormick  was  most 
affected.  He  turned  presently,  breathing 
through  his  teeth,  and  swung  a  menacing 
weapon  into  view. 

"  Fellers,  if  me  and  that  beast  ever  meet 
ag'in,  it'll  be  the  last  time!  " 

"  A  remark  I've  heard  once  or  twice  be 
fore,"  drawled  Butternut,  between  drafts  on 
a  pipe,  the  puffing  of  which  the  excitement 
had  caused  him  to  suspend.  "  It  strikes  me 
you've  just  missed  a  dazzlin'  opportunity." 

The  giant  growled  and  kicked  a  stick  into 
the  fire. 

"Yeh  don't  say!  He  wuzn't  comin'  fer 
me,  wuz  he?  I  reckon  nobody's  lookin'  to 
murder  him." 

The  Lambkin  laughed  musically. 
"  Of  course  not.     Nobody  wants  the  ad 
vantage  of  him.    But,  say?  " 

37 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

"Well,  say  it."  The  behest  was  unani 
mous. 

"  I  was  just  thinkin'.  S'pose  he  meets  the 
general?  " 

The  question,  carelessly  offered,  caught 
them  simultaneously,  and  silence  like  a  blan 
ket  enfolded  them.  For  a  full  minute  each 
was  lost  in  speculation. 

General  Custer  had  come  to  the  Circle-B 
some  weeks  before,  with  mud  on  his  short, 
straight  horns  and  cactus  needles  in  his  beard. 
From  somewhere  in  the  sweeps  of  the  plain 
he  had  come,  sidling,  not  timidly,  but  with 
the  arrogance  of  a  person  approaching  his 
own  house.  Though  all  visible  evidence 
pointed  to  his  being  lost,  the  fact,  if  he  was 
conscious  of  it,  gave  him  no  concern.  He 
was  an  exceedingly  serious-minded  goat,  to 
whom  the  permanent  loss  of  his  bearings  was 
a  circumstance  too  trifling  for  notice. 

The  cowboys  might  have  rejoiced  more  at 
his  arrival  had  it  not  been  for  the  ill-man 
nered  way  in  which  he  "  put  up  "  at  the 
ranch.  He  did  this  exactly  as  if  he  were  boss 
of  the  place,  ignoring  the  authority  of  every 
one,  even  to  Talbot,  who  viewed  him  with  a 

38 


" GENERAL    CUSTER" 

stern  eye  from  behind  a  corner  of  the  stable, 
but  was  forced  to  flee  to  the  hay-loft  for 
safety.  Did  any  one  but  regard  the  general 
evilly,  he  would  divine  it  on  the  instant  and 
come  for  the  particular  offender  with  an 
arrow-like  speed  and  a  marvelously  accurate 
aim.  As  a  consequence  the  cowboys  were 
continually  dodging  and  leaping  from  his 
path,  until  Talbot  declared  that  their  agility 
excelled  anything  he  had  seen  them  previ 
ously  display,  even  on  the  liveliest  occasions. 
For  this  very  prowess,  however,  at  stirring 
up  things,  his  business-like  ways  being  most 
diverting,  they  suffered  him  to  remain,  know 
ing,  too,  that  there  could  be  no  particular  dis 
comfort  in  his  presence  so  long  as  they  be 
haved  themselves  and  allowed  him  to  run  the 
ranch.  They  began,  then,  to  watch  for  his 
approval  before  venturing  on  any  moves 
which  might  be  ill-timed,  and  it  often  became 
a  matter  of  rivalry  among  them  as  to  who 
could  cross  the  vacant  ground  between  the 
house  and  the  corrals  with  the  least  show  of 
concern,  the  general  standing  meanwhile  in 
the  open,  his  gaze  directed  quizzically  tow 
ard  them,  while  he  chewed  placidly  a  bit  of 

39 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

broken  stirrup-leather  or  an  outcast  saddle- 
girth. 

It  was  this  characteristic  of  the  goat — 
this  stubborn  idea  with  which  he  seemed  to 
have  been  born,  of  having  absolute  right  of 
way  over  all  living  objects,  regardless  of  pro 
portions — which  brought  him  now  so  strik 
ingly  to  the  minds  of  Talbot  and  his  com 
panions. 

Since  the  hour  of  his  arrival  he  had  con 
ducted  himself  on  this  principle,  but  now 
from  out  of  the  blue  North  there  had  come  a 
famed  gladiator  who,  if  their  paths  met  and 
there  was  any  show  of  officiousness,  would 
demolish  him,  and  the  sound  of  whose  voice 
alone  should  make  him  tremble.  But  therein 
lay  the  general's  stupidity.  He  had  not  the 
intelligence  to  tremble  at  anything,  and  they 
knew  that  he  would  regard  this  monarch  of 
the  prairies  as  an  insect  which  a  whiff  of  his 
breath  would  cause  to  fade  into  the  horizon. 
And  when  the  king  should  refuse  to  vanish 
and  ignore  his  bluster,  there  would  be  trouble 
which,  as  a  matter  of  course,  could  only  mean 
the  ending  of  the  general.  Their  anxiety, 
then,  was  deep  for  the  "  little  fellow,"  whose 

40 


"GENERAL    CUSTER" 

inexhaustible  meanness  had  made  them  love 
him.  McCormick  especially  regarded  his 
peril  in  a  serious  light — and  Spartacus  had 
headed  toward  the  ranch. 

They  struck  the  trail  early  next  morning, 
and  rode  with  speed,  intending  to  reach  home 
by  noon.  The  brushwoods  stood  thinner  and 
thinner  as  they  advanced,  dwindling  finally 
to  a  scattering  growth  which  told  them  that 
the  prairie  was  at  hand.  Toward  the  end  of 
the  morning  they  emerged  upon  the  broad 
sweep  of  rolling  plain  at  the  farther  edge  of 
which  stood  the  ranch-houses,  smaller  than 
blackbirds  in  the  distance. 

That  Spartacus  had  gone  before  was  evi 
dent,  for  occasionally  in  a  soft  spot  of  the 
trail  McCormick  would  pause  to  direct  atten 
tion  to  the  marks  of  the  bull's  great  hoof. 
Nor  was-  it  long  before  they  came  up  to  him. 
By  the  roadside,  between  two  knolls,  he  was 
browsing  leisurely,  from  time  to  time  taking 
a  step  in  the  direction  of  the  ranch. 

McCormick  at  once  called  the  company 
to  a  halt,  and  said,  with  earnestness : 

"  Fellers,  this  hyer's  a  serious  matter. 
Somebody  must  hold  him  back  while  some- 
4  41 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

body  else  goes  V  gits  the  general  into  a  safe 
place." 

"  Easy  enough  in  part,"  remarked  the 
gentle  Lambkin,  with  a  glance  at  the  king's 
magnificent  horns.  "  I'll  agree  to  tend  to  the 
goat,  and  " — bending  with  some  impatience 
toward  the  giant — "  I  s'pose  you're  achin' 
to  do  the  holdin'  back?  " 

The  words  stung  the  giant.  He  was  in 
the  exact  mood  to  take  them  as  a  direct  af 
front.  He  looked  savagely  at  Butternut,  and 
from  him  to  Spartacus,  and  his  mind  seemed 
made  up  to  something.  Dismounting,  he  re 
moved  a  long  lariat  of  triple  strength  from 
his  saddle-horn,  his  fingers  working  with 
vicious  swiftness.  Then  he  slid  his  six- 
shooter  into  the  saddle-bags,  and  passed 
the  bridle  of  his  mount  to  the  Lambkin, 
whose  word  of  restraint  sank  at  once  in  his 
throat. 

"  Close  up — you!  "  commanded  the  giant. 
"  I  want  no  interference,  and  I'll  hev  none." 
With  a  gesture  of  his  fist  toward  the  king: 
"  Me  and  that  animal  hev  been  on  ill  terms 
for  some  time,  V  it  behooves  us  to  settle  our 
account  squar'.  I'll  tackle  him  afoot,  'n'  if 

42 


"GENERAL   CUSTER" 

ye  watch  close,  ye'll  see  him  roped  V  staked 
with  less  trouble  V  a  lame  colt." 

He  was  clearly  at  ill  temper,  and  when 
the  giant  reached  that  state  no  one  was  in  the 
habit  of  venturing  advice,  especially  when,  as 
in  this  case,  his  anger  overbalanced  all  judg 
ment.  His  intention  was  to  lasso  the  king, 
drive  the  picket-pin  at  the  rope's  other  end 
into  the  earth  with  his  heel,  and,  before  the 
bull  could  reach  him,  leap  beyond  the  play 
of  the  lariat.  Ticklish  business,  indeed,  but 
that  was  his  plan.  His  state  of  mind,  too,  left 
him  with  a  reckless  desire  to  make  the  exploit 
as  hazardous  as  possible.  To  show  his  pre 
tended  contempt  for  the  bull,  he  deliberately 
walked  in  a  half-circle  around  him,  halting 
at  the  top  of  the  slope  beyond — a  useless 
maneuver,  which  left  him  facing,  unmounted 
and  unarmed,  the  wickedest  pair  of  horns  in 
the  Pecos  Valley.  Spartacus  for  the  moment 
was  tranquil,  but  the  buzzing  of  a  fly  was 
enough  to  turn  the  tide  of  his  temper. 

The  giant  arranged  the  noose,  and  curved 
his  long  body  into  position  for  the  cast,  while 
his  mounted  audience  gave  breathless  atten 
tion.  The  next  moment  the  loop  went  spin- 

43 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

ning  a  graceful  flight,  and  the  audience 
groaned  as  it  saw  that  he  had  not  calculated 
sufficiently  for  the  slope  of  the  land.  Spar- 
tacus,  lifting  his  head  at  the  instant,  presented 
a  clear  target,  but  the  noose,  falling  short  by 
a  few  inches,  merely  struck  him  across  the 
nose! 

Immediately  the  king  lowered  his  head, 
while  he  roared  in  sudden  anger  at  the  giant, 
who  squared  himself  for  the  leap  of  his  life. 
Another  roar,  then  a  bellow,  and  the  cowboy, 
squatting  with  his  hands  on  his  thighs,  awaited 
the  lunge.  Could  he  but  dodge  the  first  sweep 
of  the  horns  there  would  be  a  fair  chance  of 
his  reaching  his  bronco.  But  a  miraculous 
interruption  spared  him  the  effort. 

The  king  was  on  the  point  of  charging 
when  his  eye  caught  a  new  object,  and  he 
hesitated.  This  object  was  nothing  more  than 
a  solemn-looking  head,  with  two  straight 
horns  and  a  wagging  beard,  which  bobbed  at 
this  juncture  over  the  summit  of  the  knoll. 

The  general  was  in  a  reverie,  as  usual, 
and  chewed  meditatively  on  a  weed,  his  head 
cocked  sidewise  against  the  breeze.  On  the 
brow  of  the  knoll,  however,  he  became 

44 


"GENERAL    CUSTER" 

suddenly  aware  that  the  present  moment 
promised  something  of  greater  interest  than 
memories  of  other  days.  He  regarded  the 
delegation  before  him  with  a  thoughtful  and 
critical  eye.  He  had  the  important  manner 
of  a  new  overseer.  His  beard  rose  and  fell 
reflectively  until  he  was  given  the  expression 
of  a  sage. 

The  audience  and  McCormick  looked  at 
the  king.  He  had  paused  with  the  first  step 
of  his  rush,  and  was  now  gazing  with  curios 
ity  at  this  venerable  citizen  who  had  come  so 
unceremoniously  upon  his  vision.  It  was  not 
unlikely  that  he  had  never  seen  such  a  beast 
before,  for  in  those  days  goats  were  few  on 
the  Pecos  range.  Again  he  started  up  the 
slant,  and  again  he  came  to  a  halt  to  look  in 
astonishment  at  the  creature  before  him.  The 
general,  on  the  summit  above,  tilted  his  head 
at  a  new  angle  and  looked  ever  so  wrise. 

Spartacus  roared  softly,  raking  the  earth 
with  his  front  hoof  and  switching  his  tail, 
and  McCormick  suddenly  found  himself  an 
outside  party  to  an  embarrassing  piece  of 
business.  Some  distance  away  he  assumed  a 
respectful  attitude,  his  chin  in  his  hand. 

45 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Spartacus  roared  again  sullenly — perhaps 
it  was  the  beard  that  puzzled  him  so — then 
advanced  slowly,  bellowing.  His  head  swung 
lower  in  the  dust,  and  his  great  hoof  at  in 
tervals  pawed  the  trail,  lifting  the  earth  in 
clouds  which  showered  on  his  back,  cover 
ing  the  red  and  white  spots.  Whatever  this 
thing — this  beast  with  a  beard — he  would 
annihilate  it.  But  now  came  an  amazing 
performance. 

The  general  stood  suddenly  on  his  hind- 
legs,  bleating  like  a  young  bully  unable 
longer  to  restrain  himself.  Then  he  waltzed 
off  at  an  angle,  and,  doubling  sharply  from 
a  new  quarter,  came  plump  against  the  big 
brute's  side  with  the  force  of  a  battering- 
ram.  The  astounded  spectators  saw  the  king 
stagger  and  heard  his  mighty  bellow  of  rage, 
then  the  battle  was  on  with  a  swiftness  and 
fury  that  took  the  power  of  motion  from 
them.  A  gasp  from  Talbot,  a  howl  from 
McCormick,  and  they  were  rigid  with  sus 
pense. 

The  general  assailed  his  adversary  at  an 
gles  and  from  all  sides.  In  a  manner  rapid 
and  dexterous  he  evaded  the  rushes  of  the 


"GENERAL   CUSTER" 

king,  who  charged  repeatedly,  bellowing  and 
sweeping  up  the  earth  in  his  frenzy.  Each 
thrust  of  the  bull  was  calculated  to  end  the 
business,  but  the  goat  seemed  always  in  a 
safe  place. 

The  general  wheeled  and  dodged  in  in 
numerable  circles  and  squares,  and,  calculat 
ing  his  time  to  the  second,  at  intervals  went 
in  and  established  his  forehead  in  the  enemy's 
flank.  The  sound  when  he  did  this  was  like 
a  blow  on  an  empty  barrel.  And  the  bull 
would  bellow  again  furiously,  and  it  would 
seem  that  they  fought  amid  smoke,  so  thick 
was  the  dust  which  rose,  fog-like,  choking 
the  air  until  one  could  but  dimly  see  the 
combatants  and  catch  faintly  the  red  gleam 
of  the  king's  eyes.  The  general  was  every 
where  in  the  commotion,  wheeling  and  dodg 
ing  with  bewildering  speed,  and  when  he 
periodically  landed  on  his  adversary,  the  re 
bound  was  as  though  he  were  an  object  of 
india-rubber.  He  feinted  and  countered  and 
thrust  with  a  skill  that  was  dazzling,  and 
seemed  to  be  following  a  planned  line  of  bat 
tle.  There  was  a  veteran's  generalship  on  his 
side,  and  lumbering  overconfidence  on  the 

47 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

part  of  the  bull,  who,  finding  his  great 
strength  of  so  little  importance,  grew  dis 
turbed  in  mind  and,  in  consequence,  awk 
ward.  His  lunges  were  terrific  but  ill-timed, 
and  the  general  evaded  them  in  a  manner  so 
scientific  as  to  fairly  stupefy  the  wondering 
audience.  Again  and  again  would  the  king 
sweep  at  him,  bellowing,  only  to  swing  into 
space  and  in  the  same  instant  feel  the  weight 
of  his  enemy  against  his  ribs.  These  repeated 
persistent  bumps  were  as  violent  as  the  blows 
of  a  sledge.  They  began  to  tell  upon  the 
king.  Their  machine-like  regularity  grew 
monotonous.  The  great  horns  cleaved  the  air 
fiercely,  but  with  less  precision.  Unable  to 
inspire  terror  in  his  antagonist,  he  became  so 
enraged  that  his  rushes  came  blindly. 

As  for  the  general,  he  gave  no  sign  of 
weakening.  In  this  tempest  of  war  he  was 
as  fresh  and  unruffled  as  when  enjoying  a 
frolic  with  the  calves  at  dawn.  He  now  grew 
zealously  aggressive,  lest  his  part  in  the  fes 
tivities  should  lag,  preceding  each  telling 
blow  with  a  playful  bleat  of  challenge. 
Spartacus  finally  grew  tired.  His  body 
swayed  uncertainly  through  the  dust-clouds, 


"GENERAL   CUSTER" 

and  several  inches  of  his  tongue  showed  life 
lessly.  Presently  the  general  seemed  to  take 
his  resistance  as  a  personal  affront,  and,  doub 
ling  into  a  ball,  hurtled  himself  with  the 
velocity  of  a  thunderbolt  against  the  king's 
belly.  The  bellow  of  the  bull  was  changed 
to  a  grunt  as  this  happened,  but  he  whirled 
heroically  in  a  world  of  dust  which  hid  for 
a  moment  the  motions  of  the  conflict.  Then 
out  of  the  tumult  there  came  the  sound  of  a 
succession  of  thumps,  rapid  and  regular,  and 
abruptly  a  pair  of  immense  horns  and  a  mass 
ive,  dust-coated  body  emerged  into  the  clear 
air  and  swung  at  a  jaded  pace  over  the  plain. 

The  awestricken  horsemen  of  the  Circle- 
B  looked  after  him  until  the  tallest  hair  of 
his  back  had  sunk  from  view  behind  a  knoll 
and  the  silence  of  the  prairies  enveloped 
them.  As  the  dust  of  conflict  lifted,  the  gen 
eral  could  be  seen  inspecting  the  vegetation 
along  the  slope. 

"Wow!"  said  the  Lambkin,  finally,  and 
there  was  reverence  in  his  voice. 

McCormick  passed  his  hand  carefully 
across  his  brow,  as  though  brushing  cob 
webs  from  his  vision.  Then  he  executed  a 

49 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

strange,  wild  dance,  chanting  as  he  flung  his 
arms  abroad: 

"  Oh,  my  queen — my  jewel — my  primy 
donner — my  Lally  Rook!  Come — Oh,  come 
tome!" 

But  bethinking  himself,  and  lest  the  gen 
eral  should  take  him  at  his  word,  he  gained 
his  bronco  with  marvelous  strides,  and  mount 
ed  with  agility  and  speed. 


CHAPTER   IV 

TROUBLE  ON  THE  TWIN  BAR 

OVER  on  the  Twin  Bar  Jimsey  had  been 
foreman  long  before  Little  Jimsey  began  to 
toddle  about  and  take  walks  with  the  brindle 
calf.  That  had  been  but  a  few  weeks  ago, 
and  the  calf  was  still  very  young,  uncom 
monly  lively,  and  with  the  same  passion  for 
cookies  that  had  given  him  his  name.  A 
burnt  cooky  to  his  eye  was  a  feast,  and  a 
brown  one  a  luxury  almost  as  unsurpassable 
as  twenty  minutes  of  his  own  mother's  milk. 

Small  Jimsey,  by  a  private  arrangement 
with  the  kitchen  hands,  always  carried  a  sup 
ply  of  the  dainties  in  his  apron,  which  in 
duced  Cookies  to  hover  so  constantly  in  his 
neighborhood  that,  as  a  matter  of  course,  they 
were  chums.  More,  they  were  the  idols,  the 
pride,  the  delight  of  Captain  Kitty. 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

It  was  a  pity  the  calf  grew  so  fast.  They 
had  made  a  pretty  pair  when  of  the  same 
height,  waddling  everywhere  in  company, 
though  for  that  matter  they  were  still  a  team 
very  pleasing  to  look  at.  Small  Jimsey 
would  go  nowhere  without  Cookies,  and  the 
calf  was  stubbornly  of  the  same  mind  toward 
Small  Jimsey,  so  that  to  see  one  singly  in  the 
open  was  as  rare  as  an  eclipse.  Evenings 
before  dusk  always  found  them  on  review, 
and,  even  when  Captain  Kitty  was  not 
around,  there  was  not  a  cowboy  who  cared 
when  they  got  in  his  way.  In  making  these 
rounds  they  had  an  important  air,  and  were 
apparently  much  concerned  over  the  proper 
performance  of  every  duty.  For  there  was 
scarcely  a  spot  about  the  ranch  which  they 
did  not  daily  visit.  From  the  cribs  to  the 
cowpens,  from  the  woodpile  to  the  stables, 
they  sauntered,  pausing  at  intervals  to  amuse 
each  other  by  tumbling — for  both  were  acro 
bats — these  exercises  always  occurring  be 
tween  cookies.  First  Small  Jimsey  would 
tumble,  then  the  calf,  after  some  preliminary 
flourishes,  would  show  him  how  it  ought  to 
have  been  done,  then  the  boy  would  tumble 

52 


TROUBLE   ON   THE   TWIN    BAR 

as  before,  signifying  that  he  thought  his  way 
the  better,  and  Cookies  would  swing  his  head 
negatively  and  again  illustrate  his  idea  of  the 
feat.  And  Captain  Kitty,  superintending, 
would  scream  uncontrollably. 

Matters  went  well  until  the  time  came  to 
brand  Cookies,  when  there  rose  such  a  howl 
from  Small  Jimsey  that  the  irons  were  never 
heated.  No  one  could  blame  him  for  not 
wishing  to  see  his  chum  burned,  his  blue-and- 
white  side  disfigured,  though  everybody  knew 
what  would  be  the  outcome.  It  was  difficult 
to  keep  an  unbranded  calf  on  the  range,  es 
pecially  one  of  Cookies'  breeding.  They 
started  to  fence  him  in,  but  there  came  an 
other  howl.  Small  Jimsey  was  most  unrea 
sonable.  He  refused  to  see  any  logic  in  his 
elders,  and  was  determined  that  Cookies 
should  have  the  whole  prairie.  Captain 
Kitty  iinally  gave  in  to  him,  and  that  ended 
it. 

The  expected  happened  at  the  end  of  just 
two  weeks.  Cookies  was  stolen  on  a  still  and 
moonless  night  when  even  the  mosquitoes 
were  sleeping.  For  miles  around  the  cow 
boys  scanned  the  prairie  next  morning,  but 

53 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

'twas  no  use.  The  calf  was  "  nabbed  "  in  the 
manner  of  other  "  mavericks,"  and  ere  this 
was  doubtless  numbered  in  a  passing  herd, 
with  the  map  of  five  counties  burned  into 
his  hide. 

Had  Small  Jimsey  been  Foreman  Jimsey, 
he  would  have  sworn.  As  it  was,  he  lay  on 
the  floor  and  bawled  systematically.  They 
expected  he  would  subside  by  noon,  but  after 
dinner  he  took  a  fresh  start,  and  continued 
a  relentless  wail  the  balance  of  the  day.  But 
Jimsey  thought  it  useless  to  follow  the  thieves, 
as  from  the  trail  of  their  herd  they  were 
clearly  a  good  number,  and  he  simply  had 
not  the  men,  all  but  two  of  his  cowboys  being 
away  on  errands  of  importance.  So  the  fore 
man  could  only  shake  his  head,  while  Little 
Jimsey  howled  afresh  and  Captain  Kitty 
lifted  her  hands  in  despair. 

It  happened  that  at  this  particular  wo- 
ful  moment  on  the  Twin  Bar,  Butternut,  re 
turning  from  a  mission  twenty  miles  north 
ward,  met  a  company  of  sinister  horsemen 
driving  a  bunch  of  beeves  toward  the  uplands. 
Turning  aside,  he  gave  them  a  wide  road, 
and,  nodding  civilly  to  the  drovers,  sent  a 

54 


TROUBLE   ON   THE   TWIN    BAR 

careless  eye  through  the  herd.  He  was  on 
the  branded  side  of  the  bunch,  which  had 
nearly  passed  him  when  he  observed  toward 
the  rear  an  unmarked  blue-brindle  calf.  But 
though  he  had  seen  this  animal  several  times 
when  passing  the  Twin  Bar,  and  knew  it  as 
the  beloved  of  Little  Jimsey  as  well  as  a 
favorite  of  Captain  Kitty's,  he  rode  intently 
in  the  opposite  direction. 

"  Six  mavericks  besides  the  brindle,"  he 
mused.  "  I  guess  they'll  do  some  brandin' 
to-night.  Things  must  be  in  a  stew  at  Jim- 
sey's — Terrapin,  we'll  have  to  take  the  back 
trail." 

This  was  toward  the  end  of  the  after 
noon,  and  the  Lambkin,  turning  and  keeping 
just  out  of  sight,  followed  the  thieves  until 
they  camped  for  the  night,  just  across  Devil's 
River.  His  own  blanket  he  spread  in  a  hol 
low  of  the  hills,  about  half  a  mile  from  the 
stream. 

A  long,  steep  ridge  stretched  on  his  left 
and  right,  limiting  narrowly  his  view  of  the 
stars,  and  between  these  hills,  blown  softly  up 
the  hollow  as  he  slept,  came  an  odor  which 
aroused  him.  It  was  a  trifling  thing,  this 

55 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

scent,  but  coming  as  it  did  from  scorching 
hair,  it  threw  the  Lambkin  very  wide-awake. 
They  had  begun  operations  sooner  than  he 
had  calculated. 

To  Butternut  at  once  was  suggested  a 
pretty,  if  perilous,  game.  Without  further  re 
flection,  he  took  a  hitch  in  his  belt,  and,  feel 
ing  over  the  ground,  gripped  the  ivory  handle 
of  a  large  revolver.  A  moment  afterward, 
with  the  noiseless  stride  of  a  specter  Indian, 
he  was  moving  down  the  hollow  toward  the 
river,  his  stooping  figure  scarcely  visible  in 
the  light  of  the  stars. 

Suddenly  an  abrupt  turning  of  the  paral 
lel  ridges  brought  into  his  view  the  yellow 
glow  of  a  camp-fire.  Thinner  than  cobwebs 
was  this  light,  and  but  for  the  time  of  night 
it  might  have  been  taken  for  the  first  gray  of 
the  dawn  by  eyes  less  keen  than  the  cowboy's. 
In  the  pale  haze  he  outlined  the  branches  of 
a  bush,  which  reminded  him  that  the  river 
flowed  between.  He  grumbled  a  little  here. 
Though  the  night  was  warm,  the  prospects 
of  a  swim  did  not  strike  him  as  pleasant. 

He  kept  on  until  presently  his  head  and 
shoulders  bulged  from  a  fringe  of  chaparral 

56 


TROUBLE   ON    THE   TWIN    BAR 

over  the  river,  whence  he  peered  into  the 
shadows  of  the  farther  shore.  Across  the 
stream,  and  a  little  to  his  left,  the  smoldering 
fire  still  glowed,  and  now  he  could  occasion 
ally  hear  the  piteous  bawl  of  a  brute  in  dis 
tress.  That  they  were  branding  was  certain, 
and  he  wondered  if  Cookies  had  yet  been  to 
the  ropes.  He  grinned  grimly  at  the  thought, 
and  thrust  his  head  farther  over  the  river  in 
his  effort  to  pierce  the  gloom.  Nothing  of 
definite  shape  could  he  see.  The  night  hov 
ered  heavily  about  his  shoulders,  and  every 
thing  seemed  a  shadow.  The  farthermost 
bank  was  so  black  and  fantom-like  that  it 
might  have  been  some  long,  dark  monster  in 
wait. 

The  river  he  knew  was  there  from  the 
gurgle  of  its  current  and  the  scent  of  mois 
ture  spreading  upward.  He  was  convinced 
that  a  gathering  of  horses,  cattle,  and  thieves 
were  encamped  on  the  opposite  bank,  and 
that  few,  if  any,  were  asleep.  Now  and  then 
he  glimpsed  a  dusky  figure,  pausing  an  instant 
in  the  dull  ember-light. 

He  resolved  to  move  toward  the  glow. 
Accordingly,  he  drew  off  his  boots  and  hung 
5  57 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

his  sombrero  and  belt,  with  the  ivory-han 
dled  weapon,  in  the  fork  of  a  bush.  Prowl 
ing  for  some  moments  along  the  verge  of  the 
bank,  he  finally  found  a  descent  gradual 
enough  to  admit  of  his  reaching  the  water 
without  the  noise  of  a  plunge.  Even  then  he 
slid  guardedly,  plowing  deep  furrows  in  the 
clay  with  his  cautious  heels.  Within  another 
moment  he  was  at  the  river's  edge,  and  set 
tling  dexterously  to  his  neck  in  the  water, 
balanced  against  the  current. 

As  he  struggled  forward  the  glow  from 
the  dim  fire  deepened  to  a  hue  so  brilliant 
that  he  no  longer  closed  his  eyes  experimen 
tally  to  see  if  he  might  lose  it.  It  was  an 
assured  reality. 

Carefully,  slowly,  he  swam  onward, 
planting  his  strokes  deep  that  there  might 
come  no  sound  save  the  ripple  of  the  surface 
eddying  and  swirling  past  his  ears.  But  the 
novelty  of  the  proceeding  and  the  impressive 
quiet  of  it  all  presently  took  somber  hold 
upon  Butternut.  Out  of  so  much  silence  and 
darkness  grew  the  thought  that  his  hazard 
ous  errand  was  one  of  benevolence,  and  he 
wondered  if  he  were  not  having  more  trouble 

58 


TROUBLE   ON   THE   TWIN    BAR 

and  running  longer  chances  than  the  object 
of  his  mission  was  worth.  He  felt  for  the 
first  time  a  menacing  presence  in  the  dark 
ness.  Along  the  horizon  of  his  fancy  peril 
was  pointing  his  way. 

"  All  for  the  kid,"  he  mumbled  as  he 
swam  on.  "And  Captain  Kitty,"  he  came 
near  adding,  in  spite  of  himself. 

Soon  he  had  crossed  the  stream  and  began 
to  nose  along  the  bottom  of  the  bank.  His 
movements  here  were  not  unlike  those  of  a 
foxhound  mousing  along  a  hedge  fence. 
Presently  he  stopped,  lifted  himself  clear  of 
the  current,  and  began  to  cautiously  ascend 
the  slant.  The  gravelly  clay  loosened  in 
places  and  rattled  down  into  the  water,  and 
at  such  times  he  would  pause  to  see  if  the 
noise  had  caused  a  stir  above  him. 

Upward  another  yard  he  climbed.  The 
camp-fire  shone  brighter.  With  each  lifting 
of  his  body  his  view  became  clearer,  while 
more  distinct  were  the  signs  of  industry  on 
the  plain.  Listening  now,  he  could  readily 
hear  men  talking.  They  spoke  at  inter 
vals,  and  their  voices  were  coarse  and  low 
and  deep.  Butternut  found  a  certain  cheer 

59 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

in  their  talk,  though  it  was  the  speech  of 
foes. 

"  All  for  the  kid,"  he  mumbled  again. 
"  And — "  He  added  it  this  time. 

His  forehead  and  eyes  now  rose  above  the 
brow  of  the  bank,  and  he  looked  between  a 
cactus  and  a  bush.  The  scene  was  about  as 
he  had  imagined.  The  light  was  thrown 
dimly  where  he  lay,  but  was  brighter  farther 
on  where  the  fire  was  flickering  smartly. 
The  embers  were  being  stirred. 

The  Lambkin  peered  eagerly  about  in  the 
task  of  making  out  objects.  There  were  four 
men  around  the  fire,  and  he  thought  he  saw 
another  in  the  shadow  beyond.  Over  to  his 
left  a  few  large  bodies  were  arched  irregu 
larly  against  the  clouds.  It  was  the  begin 
ning  of  the  herd.  Then  nearer  he  descried 
another  bulky  figure,  not  so  large,  which  he 
found  it  impossible  to  name.  It  lay  partially 
between  him  and  the  fire.  Butternut  craned 
his  neck  forward  in  the  effort  to  determine 
the  nature  of  this  object.  Suddenly  he  saw 
it  move.  A  portion  of  it  turned  until  against 
the  firelight  he  glimpsed  a  profile  with 
which  he  was  familiar.  Cookies  was  con- 

60 


TROUBLE   ON   THE   TWIN    BAR 

tentedly  chewing  a  weed,  and  a  grateful  feel 
ing  took  hold  of  the  cowboy  as  he  realized 
there  was  time. 

Meanwhile  the  men  had  finished  with 
their  last  "  subject,"  and  were  about  ready 
for  another.  The  branding-rods  were  at 
proper  heat,  and  the  person  who  was  to  wield 
them  was  getting  impatient. 

"  For  Captain  Kitty,"  growled  Butternut, 
viciously,  as  he  swung  half  of  his  body  over 
on  the  level.  Cookies  was  hardly  three  feet 
away!  As  the  Lambkin  stretched  forth  an 
arm,  on  the  very  eve  of  victory,  an  appalling 
doubt  crossed  his  mind.  He  must  catch  a 
leg — indeed,  by  no  mischance  must  he  miss  a 
leg!  Then  came  an  instantaneous  maneuver, 
and  the  commotion  began.  A  quick  lunge 
and  a  fierce  clutch,  then  a  rapid  scramble 
backward.  He  had  seized  Cookies  by  a  hind- 
leg  and  drawn  him  sliding  to  the  verge, 
where  a  second  wrench  sent  them  plunging 
over  the  bank  together.  So  powerful  was  the 
swing  that  in  their  downward  flight  they 
scarcely  struck  the  slant,  but  dropped  at  once 
into  the  river,  where,  like  a  boulder,  they 
went  to  the  bottom.  Cookies  was  half-stran- 

61 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

gled  when  they  rose,  but  the  Lambkin  had 
closed  his  mouth,  and  now  swam  for  both, 
keeping  one  arm  under  the  floundering  calf's 
neck  and  thus  holding  his  nose  above  water 
until  time  to  put  it  under  again. 

And  that  time  arrived  quickly,  when  four 
furious  men  with  blazing  torches  came  rush 
ing  along  the  high  bank.  Butternut  at  once 
pulled  Cookies  under  and  dived  diagonally 
with  the  current.  Rising  for  breath,  he 
found  they  were  drifting  close  in  by  the  op 
posite  shore,  beyond  the  flare  of  the  torches. 
Cookies  was  half  strangled  again,  which  left 
him  a  cumbersome  burden,  so  laboriously 
they  kept  afloat.  But  the  Lambkin  smiled  a 
wide  smile,  for  his  mission  was  as  good  as  a 
success,  though  there  were  yet  times  when 
they  were  obliged  to  duck  under,  as  when  one 
of  the  flaming  brands  was  thrown  out  over 
the  water. 

The  cowboy  heard  the  men  wrangling, 
and  caught  some  of  their  talk  between  dives. 

"  Thunder,"  said  one. 

"  Did  ye  see  it?  "  asked  another. 

"Sh'dsay  I  did!" 

"  What  wuz  it?  " 

62 


TROUBLE   ON   THE   TWIN    BAR 

"  The  ca'af  stumbled." 

"  Stumbled  hell !    He  wuz  shoved!  " 

Then  came  the  sput-t,  sput-t  of  bullets 
striking  harmlessly  in  the  dark. 

There  were  a  number  of  good  reasons  why 
the  Lambkin  should  make  easy  escape.  The 
thieves  were  little  inclined  to  swim  the  river 
for  a  brindle  calf,  and  to  saddle  horse  and 
cross  at  the  shallow  ford,  far  up  the  stream, 
would  take  a  good  half-hour.  Besides,  this 
prowler  might  be  one  of  a  number,  and  they 
could  not  all  forsake  the  herd.  Thus  Butter 
nut,  returning  with  some  difficulty  to  his 
boots  and  belt,  moved  in  peace  through  the 
darkness  with  Cookies  in  charge,  and  joined 
the  calico  pony  in  the  hollow. 

By  noon  the  next  day  he  had  reached  the 
Twin  Bar,  with  Cookies  at  the  end  of  his 
lariat.  Jimsey,  putting  some  shingles  on  the 
bunk-house,  sighted  him  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away,  and  descended  to  the  yard  in  a  fit. 
Captain  Kitty  and  Mrs.  Jimsey,  hearing  the 
foreman  shout,  hurried  to  the  gate,  with  Lit 
tle  Jimsey,  frantic  with  delight,  at  their 
skirts. 

"Well,  well,"  drawled  the  Lambkin,  as 
63 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

he  swung  from  the  stirrups,  "  you  all  don't 
seem  to  have  been  expectin'  me.  Jimsey,  you 
got  some  dry  hose  and — other  things?  " 

He  blushed  violently,  having  forgotten 
Captain  Kitty  for  the  moment,  or  rather  had 
forgotten  all  save  her  presence. 

An  hour  later,  serene  in  dry  linen,  he  was 
at  dinner  with  them,  and  then  in  his  modest 
way  he  told  of  the  rescue  of  Cookies.  Cap 
tain  Kitty  saw  that  he  was  shunning  all  de 
tails  involving  the  slightest  self-credit,  and 
when  he  had  finished  and  asked  politely  if 
her  uncle  would  not  be  down  next  month, 
she  thrilled  him  unutterably  by  saying,  with 
simple  candor: 

"  You  are  the  bravest  man  I  ever  saw." 

So,  it  had  been  worth  the  risk  after  all! 
He  was  glad  he  looked  a  better  figure  to-day 
than  he  had  with  his  leg  in  a  sling  ten  weeks 
ago.  His  face  went  crimson  with  his  happi 
ness,  but  he  said,  depreciatingly: 

"  You  mustn't  think  that,  ma'am.  It  was 
nothing,  I'm  sure.  Anybody — Jimsey  here 
would  have  done  the  same  thing." 

"I  don't  believe  it!"  She  whirled 
vehemently  on  the  unexpectant  foreman. 


TROUBLE   ON   THE   TWIN    BAR 

"  Jimsey,  tell  me  the  truth.  Would  you  have 
done  it?  " 

And  Jimsey,  cornered,  let  his  fork  fall 
clattering,  wiped  his  mouth  with  vigor,  and, 
while  he  colored  to  the  ears,  said,  tartly: 

"  Madam,  I'm  a  married  man,  and  can't 
afford  to  play  the  fool — I  wouldn't" 

So  she  turned  a  triumphant  eye  on  the 
Lambkin,  but  still  he  was  swift. 

"  Pshaw,  ma'am,  you  ought  to've  been 
over  on  Broken  Arrow  once  to've  seen  some- 
thin'  brave."  And  he  told  of  a  deed  he  had 
there  witnessed  in  a  way  wThich  took  his  own 
exploits  for  a  time  from  her  mind. 

Dinner  over,  with  his  hat  in  hand,  and 
Terrapin  saddled  and  waiting,  he  bade  her 
good-by. 

"  When  you  comin'  over  to  see  the  nobil 
ity,  ma'am?  " 

"  I  can't  say — until  my  neighbors  call  on 


me." 


Then  it  came  to  him  that  he  had  commit 
ted  another  breach  by  forgetting  the  custom 
of  polite  countries,  but  he  said,  evenly,  as  if 
he  had  foreseen  her  reply: 

"  Judge  Waskom,  who  owns  our  place, 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

has  been  away  with  Mrs.  Waskom  for  two 
months."  And  he  added,  innocently: 
"  Won't  you  consider  this  a  call?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  she  answered,  smiling, 
"  since  Cookies  had  to  bring  you." 

Accordingly,  he  rode  away,  happy  be 
cause  he  knew  that  she  drew  no  fine  distinc 
tions  between  himself  and  a  man  who  owned 
a  ranch. 


66 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    RIVER    ROAD 

IT  was  by  Sentinel  Mountain,  where  the 
old  Laramie  Trail  is  joined  by  the  road  from 
Piney  Basin,  that  the  Lambkin,  quite  by  ac 
cident,  next  met  the  girl  from  Missouri,  their 
united  ways  winding  for  a  stretch  of  five 
miles  along  the  Pecos. 

A  land  of  lizards  and  cacti  is  the  country 
here,  save  in  the  flats  or  valleys  where  the 
cattle  range.  Barren  and  bold  and  desolate 
are  the  plains  everywhere,  the  eye  reveling 
in  distances  gray  and  appalling.  Westward, 
a  spidery  blue,  the  chains  of  New  Mexico 
elbow  the  horizon,  and  it  is  along  this  five- 
mile  stretch  that  you  can  see  Saddle  Moun 
tain,  beyond  the  Rio  Grande.  The  red  river, 
gleaming  in  the  sun,  glides  slow  between  pre 
cipitous  bluffs  so  tall  that  to  follow  the 
stream  you  ride  high  until  the  valleys  are 
remote  and  the  scattered  herds  are  like  sheep 
in  the  lowlands. 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

The  Lambkin,  traveling  leisurely,  was 
watching  a  languid  hawk  wheel  his  graceful 
flight  against  the  profound  blue  of  the  sky, 
when  the  girl  from  Missouri  rode  into  the 
trail  behind  him.  She  was  on  a  pacing  bay 
pony,  and  her  posture  was  that  of  an  accom 
plished  rider.  He  lifted  his  hat,  with  the 
bow  of  a  cavalier,  as  he  greeted  her. 

"  Aren't  you  pretty  far  from  home, 
miss?" 

She  was  alongside  him  now,  and  the  cal 
ico  pony  received  a  significant  pressure  from 
the  Lambkin's  heel  which  told  him  to  keep 
abreast. 

"  Not  a  great  ways,"  she  said,  smiling; 
"  I  am  used  to  riding  long  distances,"  and 
Butternut,  viewing  her  so  unexpectedly,  felt 
his  heart  quicken  at  her  unquestionable  love 
liness.  To  his  poetic  nature  she  seemed  the 
featured  embodiment  of  an  unfeatured  ideal 
around  which,  all  his  manhood  years,  he  had 
woven  the  hopes  whose  realization  belongs 
not  to  the  fortunes  of  men. 

"  I  can  tell  that,  ma'am,  from  the  show- 
in'  you  make  in  the  saddle.  I'll  bet  you  own 
a  hawss  or  two  in  Mizoura." 

68 


THE   RIVER   ROAD 

"  Oh,  yes.  My  uncle  always  keeps  a  few 
pacers  in  his  stables  for  my  particular  use. 
Is  Boodler  with  you  to-day?  " 

"  Yes'm.  He's  just  beyond  the  rise  yon 
der.  He  likes  to  scout  ahead  for  Indians. 
You  out  seein'  the  country?  " 

"  Yes.  I  make  a  little  circuit  about  every 
day,  and  hunt  for  '  view  '-points.  I'm  begin 
ning  to  like  it." 

He  made  no  effort  to  hide  his  smile  of 
gratification. 

"  I  knew  you  would.  It's  a  little  lone 
some  here  at  first,  but  after  a  while  you  find 
plenty  o'  company.  All  these  mountains  are 
friends  o'  mine,  and  those  farthest  away  are 
the  best.  That  pale  fellow  yonder,  south 
ward,  shaped  like  a  tommyhawk — he's  clear 
over  in  Mexico,  but  he  knows  me  just  the 
same." 

"How  delightful!" 

"  That's  a  citizen  o'  Texas,"  he  went  on, 
pointing  toward  a  lone  peak  on  their  left. 
"  We  call  him  (  The  Parson,'  he's  so  solemn. 
Looks  like  an  old  settler,  don't  he?  You 
can't  help  wonderin'  how  long  he's  been 
there,  and  if  he's  never  smiled." 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

She  had  followed  his  speech  and  his  ges 
tures  with  a  childish  rapture.  Here  was  en 
tertainment  unknown  in  Missouri. 

"  You  certainly  know  how  to  make  them 
interesting,"  she  said.  Then  they  rode  for  a 
short  time  in  silence,  while  below  them,  over 
two  hundred  feet,  flowed  the  broad,  orange- 
colored  river.  Eastward  a  white  procession 
of  indolent  clouds  curled  leisurely,  like  re 
volving  fantoms. 

"  You  won't  find  many  '  views '  better 
than  this.  See  that  kangaroo!  " 

He  pointed  to  a  huge  jack-rabbit  bound 
ing  his  diagonal  flight  along  the  face  of  the 
slope  on  their  right,  and  she  sent  a  quick  eye 
in  that  direction. 

"  Gracious,  what  a  whopper!  "  she  gasped. 
"  His  ears  are  as  long  as  his  legs,  aren't 
they?  " 

"  Yes'm — almost.  He'd  make  an  elegant 
eavesdropper." 

Starting  at  their  very  feet,  the  wonderful 
leaps  of  the  animal  seemed  to  have  already 
carried  him,  a  gleaming  streak,  a  mile  toward 
the  valley. 

"  He  must  'a'  forgot  somethin',"  whim- 

70 


THE    RIVER   ROAD 

sically  mused  the  Lambkin,  "  or  is  goin'  for 
the  doctor.  Or  do  you  guess  he's  just  on  a 
hurried  visit  to  those  cattle?  " 

"  Cattle— where?  " 

"  Down  there — in  the  valley." 

She  gazed  intently,  leaning  in  the  saddle. 

"Are  those  cattle?  They  look  like  the 
animals  of  a  child's  Noah's  Ark." 

"  They're  over  two  miles  away,"  he  said. 

He  showed  her  Painted  Mountain  now, 
and  the  Twin  Peaks  of  the  Purple  Range, 
and  Juno's  Canon,  and  the  Blackfoot  Hills 
by  Devil's  River.  He  told  her  a  legend  or 
two  in  connection  with  these  places,  and  he 
told  them  with  strange  and  thrilling  power. 
The  languid  hawk  above  them  circled  lower, 
as  if  to  hear  his  wondrous  tales. 

After  a  time  he  reminded  her  of  their 
first  meeting  by  asking,  innocently: 

"  Why  didn't  you  want  to  give  me  your 
name,  Miss  Thurston?" 

He  was  entirely  unprepared  for  the  chal 
lenging  reply,  as  she  turned  a  mischievous 
eye  upon  him: 

"  Why  didn't  you  give  me  yours,  Mr. 
Butternut  Jones?  "  and  he  was  cornered. 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  Jimsey  is  quite  a  linguist,  isn't  he? " 
was  all  he  could  say. 

"  He  talks  pretty  freely  of  you,  I'll  ad 
mit.  He  told  me  how  they  would  never  have 
known  your  name  but  for  the  way  your  sweet 
heart  addressed  her  letters." 

"Sweetheart!"  he  laughed,  with  keen 
relish.  "  That's  real  fine  o'  Jimsey.  I'm  a 
great  lover,  Miss  Cloud,  but  all  my  sweet 
hearts  are  out  here  in  my  cabin.  Lorna 
Doone  is  one,  and  Becky  Sharp  another." 

Jimsey  having  also  told  her  of  his  twenty 
books,  this  was  no  parable  to  her. 

"  That's  Crockett's  Canon  across  the  val 
ley  yonder,"  he  now  said,  and  told  her  an 
other  legend. 

"  Davy  Crockett's  most  famous  bear-fight 
happened  in  there.  The  canon's  not  half  a 
mile  long,  as  you  can  see,  but  there's  only 
one  way  to  get  in,  and  even  a  bear  would 
need  wings  to  get  out,  'cept  at  that  one  open- 
in'.  Crockett  was  pilotin'  some  rich  fellows 
on  a  huntin'  trip,  and  he  had  dropped  be 
hind  when  the  balance  o'  the  party  ran  no 
less  than  five  bears  into  that  trap.  As  it  was 
almost  night,  they  decided  to  camp  at  the 

72 


THE    RIVER    ROAD 

mouth  o'  the  gulch  and  pick  off  their  quarry 
at  their  leisure  the  next  mornin'.  Then  they 
fixed  up  a  game  on  Crockett.  After  he'd 
arrived  and  they'd  had  supper,  they  got  to 
banterin'  each  other  on  their  courage,  and 
finally  one  offered  to  bet  a  hundred  dollars 
that  there  wasn't  a  man  in  the  company  who 
would  go  alone  to  the  end  of  the  canon. 
Crockett  knew  there  was  bear  in  the  gorge 
from  the  way  the  dogs  acted,  but  he  stretched 
himself  and  said  that  although  he  was  feelin' 
a  little  tired,  he  guessed  he'd  take  the  bet. 
Well,  he  went  through  without  a  scratch,  and 
he  sent  the  skins  o'  the  five  bears  to  General 
Houston." 

She  had  listened  like  one  enthralled,  and 
again  she  thought  there  was  nothing  like  this 
in  Missouri.  After  a  while  their  road  led 
them  by  the  very  edge  of  the  river  bluff,  and 
the  canon  was  so  narrow  here  that  it  seemed 
they  might  almost  leap  across  it. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  a  rattler,  Miss 
Cloud?"  he  drawled,  presently. 

She  gave  a  little  shriek,  as  if  the  reptile 
had  suddenly  appeared  in  the  road. 

"  There's  quite  a  robust  specimen  over 
6  73 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

there,  sunnin'  himself."  He  pointed  across 
the  river  to  the  opposite  bluff,  where  on  a 
sloping  flat  rock  lay  the  reptile  in  question. 
She  shuddered. 

"  The  horrible,  creepy,  slimy  things!  I'm 
glad  he's  across  the  river." 

"  Oh,  he  has  plenty  o'  friends  on  this  side, 
only  they  don't  happen  to  be  on  parade.  You 
don't  seem  to  have  a  passion  for  them?  " 

"  I  hate  them — hate  them." 

"  Then  maybe  you'd  like  to  try  a  shot  at 
him?" 

She  drew  rein  abruptly,  and  so  did  he. 

"  I  don't  believe  I'd  dare,"  she  said,  with 
pretty  hesitation.  "  I  never  shot  a  pistol." 

The  Lambkin  became  most  persuasive  as 
he  drew  forth  his  ivory-handled  Colt. 

"  Of  course  you'll  dare,"  he  said,  and  his 
voice  was  smoother  than  rivers.  "  You  don't 
have  to  dismount.  That  hawss  you're  on  is 
about  as  'fraid  o'  firearms  as  he  is  of  oats. 
It's  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world,  and  I'd 
shorely  like  to  see  you  wing  him." 

He  of  course  knew  that  she  would  be 
lucky  if  she  hit  the  side  of  the  blujff,  but  his 
face  betokened  every  confidence  in  her  skill. 

74 


THE    RIVER    ROAD 

So  she,  thinking  perhaps  what  an  exploit  this 
would  be  to  mention  in  her  letters  home, 
yielded  finally,  taking  the  weapon  in  both 
hands.  As  he  adjusted  it  in  her  grasp,  his 
hand  upon  her  fingers,  he  thrilled  a  little,  and 
it  was  not  for  the  fate  of  the  rattler.  As  she 
lifted  the  pistol  he  backed  away  cautiously, 
for  he  saw  from  her  marvelous  aim  that  this 
was  ticklish  business.  Adjutant  Snuffles,  pok 
ing  his  head  suddenly  from  behind  a  boulder, 
was  signaled  to  stay  out  of  danger.  The  cir 
cling  hawk  wheeled  nearer  as  if  to  view  this 
performance. 

"Higher — higher,  ma'am!"  he  called. 
"You're  shootin'  at  the  river!  And  don't 
close  both  eyes! " 

"I  'wasn't — you  know  I  wasn't!"  she 
cried,  viciously;  to  take  him  seriously  afford 
ing  her  a  pretext  for  delay.  Then  at  once 
she  fired  courageously,  and  with  frightened 
gaze  looked  for  the  result.  There  was  no 
perceptible  movement  of  the  rattler  save  a 
drowsy  lifting  of  his  head  in  gentle  inquiry 
at  the  noise. 

"Once  more!"  laughed  the  Lambkin, 
and  she  fired  again  and  even  a  third  time 

75 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

with  the  same  effect.  Then  she  quit  in 
disgust. 

"  You'll  have  to  do  it  for  me,"  she  said, 
and  the  Lambkin  trailed  a  deadly  eye  down 
the  barrel.  At  that  distance,  being  a  fair 
shot,  he  could  pepper  all  around  the  target, 
and  perhaps  once  in  six  times  was  due  to  hit 
the  rattler  plumb;  but,  by  a  rare  stroke  of 
fortune,  the  lucky  shot  was  first.  An  instant 
the  reptile  seemed  pinned  to  the  cliff,  then, 
writhing  and  rolling  down  the  slanting  rock, 
toppled  into  the  river.  Now  shall  we  for 
give  the  Lambkin? 

"  The  original  serpentine  dance,"  he 
laughed.  "  A  little  practise  makes  it  easy." 
And  he  pocketed  the  weapon  as  coolly  as  if 
there  could  have  been  no  other  result. 
"  There's  your  dawg,  ma'am." 

The  adjutant  had  come  forward  to  see 
whether  or  not  they  had  been  shooting  at  a 
bear.  Her  face  shone  at  sight  of  him,  but 
he  gave  her  little  notice. 

"  I  think  he  should  be  yours,"  she  said. 
il  Jimsey  tells  me  that  he  saved  your  life,  so 
you  must  love  him.  Will  you  accept  him 
from  me?  " 


THE    RIVER   ROAD 

The  Lambkin  flushed  with  happiness  as 
he  bowed. 

"  You  are  more  than  kind.  I  am  a  little 
attached  to  him." 

And  somehow  this  offering  and  accept 
ance  of  a  gift  seemed  to  have  opened  the  way 
to  closer  conversation.  She  had  read  just 
eighteen  of  his  twenty  books,  so  their  field 
of  discussion  was  without  limits,  and  thus 
was  their  way  a  lane  of  delight.  But  all 
lanes,  however  pleasant,  must  end,  and  the 
ending  of  this  came  when  the  forks  of  the 
trail,  two  miles  after  they  had  left  the  river, 
divided  them.  In  order  to  make  her  "  cir 
cuit  "  she  must  take  the  right-hand  road, 
while  his  business  lay  eastward. 

"  We've  had  nearly  seven  miles  o'  con 
versation,  ma'am.  But  they're  the  shortest 
miles  I  ever  rode." 

Her  only  answer  was  a  smile,  but  deep 
in  her  unwilling  heart,  as  she  left  him,  lay 
the  hope  that  she  might,  on  another  day,  ride 
the  River  Road  again  with  this  man. 


77 


CHAPTER  VI 

CAPTAIN   KITTY  MAKES  A  CALL 

AFTER  the  gathering  and  despatching  of 
the  first  train  of  beeves  to  market,  for  the 
Circle-B  cowboys  who  had  not  gone  with 
the  shipment  there  were  a  few  dull  days — so 
eventless,  in  fact,  that  when  Talbot,  at  twi 
light,  rode  in  from  the  Twin  Bar  and  had 
his  coffee  with  the  superior  and  mysterious 
air  of  a  man  who  carries  news,  there  was 
among  his  comrades  much  private  jubilation. 
They  had  begun  to  grow  feverish,  and  al 
though  in  the  flare  of  the  supper  lamp  their 
faces  loomed  pious  as  a  Sunday  dawn,  that 
anticipation  ran  high  was  evident,  below 
the  table,  from  the  way  they  handled  their 
heels. 

"  Boys,"  said  the  foreman,  at  last,  with  a 
grin  at  McCormick,  "  Captain  Kitty  and 
Jimsey  air  comin'  to  see  us  to-morrow,  but 
that  ain't  the  best.  That  yearlin'  o'  Jimsey's 

78 


CAPTAIN    KITTY   MAKES    A    CALL 

that  they  call  '  Eureka ' — the  white  fellow 
with  a  yaller  tail — I've  bought  him,  and  he's 
comin'  too." 

McCormick  fidgeted,  and  began  spinning 
his  pepper-box  nervously.  It  was  his  third 
year  at  the  Circle-B.  From  the  Pan  Handle 
he  had  wafted  down  one  fall,  when  men  were 
scarce  for  the  round-up,  and  Talbot,  influ 
enced  by  his  tale  of  hardship,  humorously 
told,  had  promptly  given  him  a  place.  He 
was  a  guileless,  colossal  youth  of  singularly 
diverting  ways,  but  his  superstition  especially 
had  long  been  a  standing  joke. 

"  A  white  yearlin'  with  a  yaller  tail,"  he 
had  often  affirmed,  "  is  the  twin  brother  o' 
calamity.  I  never  yet  see  one  o'  that  com 
plexion  without  witnessin'  some  sort  o'  rippin' 
catastrophee  the  same  day.  Sometimes  it's  a 
cyclone,  sometimes  a  flood,  and  again  maybe 
it's  just  nothin'  more'n  a  peaceable  death  in 
the  fambly;  but,  in  one  shape  or  'nother,  she 
always  comes." 

And  though  it  occurred  to  none  of  his 
hearers  to  take  this  notion  seriously,  certain 
it  was  that  there  lived  in  the  giant's  memory 
a  catalogue  of  instances  which,  if  his  word 

79 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

was   to  be  used   courteously,   supported  the 
virtue  of  his  claims. 

"  Why,  I  mind,"  he  had  said,  in  the  days 
when  sniffing  doubt  in  the  air,  "  Old  Pilli- 
gan's  pet,  for  instance.  Pilligan's  ranch  sets 
up  nigh  the  head  o'  the  Washita,  and  he  once 
owned  a  ca'af  that  was  a  clean  white  all  but 
the  tail,  and  that  was  a  punkin  yaller.  '  Salt 
peter,'  Pilligan  called  him,  and  he  was  his 
pride.  Well,  I  ain't  ever  forgittin'  the  day 
Salty  was  a  year  old.  Somebody  had  hinted 
to  Pilligan  about  them  same  marks  on  a 
yearlin'  bein'  sure  signs  o'  death  and  the  like, 
but  he  had  merely  looked  at  'em  in  a  pityin' 
sort  o'  way,  and  'lowed  he  hadn't  been  born 
the  previous  spring.  Well,  on  the  very  night 
the  critter  come  of  age,  as  it  were,  Old  Pil 
ligan  was  a-wishin'  he  hadn't  been  born  at 
all.  It  rained  a  deluge  the  whole  black  night, 
and  the  river — sufferin'  kittens!  The  river 
at  daylight  had  riz'  to  fifty  times  her  natural 
size,  a-rippin'  and  a-rollin'  with  a  roar  like 
a  billion  stampedes.  The  whole  valley  was 
a-flood,  and  the  water  in  the  yard  went  into 
our  bootlegs.  We  built  a  raft  to  git  out  to 
the  corrals,  and  then  had  to  go  powerful 

80 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

cautious  and  stay  in  the  backwater,  clear  o' 
the  current.  I  never  see  such  a  wet  land 
scape.  Most  everything  in  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
o'  the  river  was  drowned,  and  the  corrals — 
great  hawss-flies !  The  corrals  was  all  located 
by  the  bank,  the  one  we  branded  in  bein'  in 
two  sections,  the  lower  half  reachin'  clear 
down  to  the  river,  and  it  happened  that  the 
evenin'  before  we  had  shoved  no  less  than  a 
hundred  beeves  into  the  lower  section.  Well! 
Of  that  whole  assortment  o'  choice  beef  never 
a  hoof  nor  horn  was  in  sight,  and  about  the 
cheerfulest  spectacle  we  see  was  a  bunch  o' 
ca'aves  standin'  belly-deep  in  the  upper  sec 
tion,  a-shiverin'  and  a-bawlin'  away  in  a  most 
distressin'  fashion.  But  what  set  Old  Pilligan 
wild  was  a  sight  back  o'  the  stables,  on  the 
high  ground,  where,  above  all  that  flood  and 
havoc  and  ruin,  there  humped  in  the  drizzlin' 
wet  a  half-drowned  yearlin' — white  all  but 
the  yaller  tail  —  a-bleatin'  and  a-bellerin' 
away  like  a  whole  orchestry.  Pilligan  saw 
him,  and  just  let  out  one  screech  that  went 
high  over  the  roar  of  the  flood,  and  proceeded 
with  shut  jaws  to  the  house.  And  I  never  see 
a  man  lookin'  so  wild-eyed  as  when  he  come 

81 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

out  and,  restin'  his  rifle  across  his  thumb, 
paid  his  final  respects  to  Saltpeter.  But 
kittens!  That  ain't  a  circumstance  to  the 
time » 

Here,  as  a  further  clincher,  he  would  fall 
into  another  corroborative  reminiscence. 

Now,  on  the  present  occasion,  his  singu 
lar  weakness  came  near  to  developing  a  quar 
rel.  He  felt  called  upon  to  deny  at  too  great 
length  the  wisdom  of  the  foreman.  He  de 
clared  repeatedly  that  if  Eureka  ever  cast  his 
shadow  on  the  ranch  it  would  mean  disaster 
of  some  kind,  and  implored  Talbot  either  to 
change  his  mind  or  prepare  for  the  worst. 
Calamity  and  destruction  were  journeying 
to  the  Circle-B  as  surely  as  the  foreman 
knew  his  brand.  Then  Talbot  lost  pa 
tience. 

"  You  drivelin'  cow,"  said  he,  quietly,  but 
with  a  vicious  twist  of  his  mustache.  "  You 
are  makin'  this  matter  tiresome.  The  year- 
lin'  is  comin'  here  to-morrow." 

It  can  not  be  said  how  the  talk  would  have 
ended  had  not  Talbot,  Junior — three  years 
old — now  waddled  into  the  room,  to  be  seized 
instantly  by  the  elder  Talbot  and  placed 

82 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

astride  his  leg  for  the  customary  gallop.  The 
youngster  was  learning  the  saddle  early. 

McCormick,  to  everybody's  amazement, 
seemed  on  the  point  of  tears.  None  of  his 
associates  had  ever  credited  him  with  par 
ticularly  tender  feelings.  He  rose,  mum 
bling,  and  went  out  into  the  starlight  of  the 
porch.  It  was  plain  that  the  remark  of  the 
foreman  had  gone-deep  with  him.  His  bunk 
ing  quarters  adjoined  Butternut's,  and  the 
Lambkin  heard  him  mumbling  on  far  into 
the  night. 

Out  by  the  stables,  the  next  morning,  the 
giant  was  still  grumbling  away.  Sitting 
astride  a  singletree,  he  pained  Scotty  and  the 
Lambkin  with  a  repetition  of  the  Pilligan  epi 
sode,  throwing  in  an  occasional  allusion  to  the 
fact  that  Talbot  had  likened  him  to  a  "  driv- 
elin'  cow."  He  felt  that  nothing  on  this  day 
save  a  full-grown  calamity  could  restore  his 
standing  with  the  foreman,  and  as  at  intervals 
he  stared  in  a  helpless  way  at  the  landscape, 
the  gentle  Butternut  grew  almost  to  hoping 
for  the  necessary  disaster. 

It  was  high  noon  when  Eureka  was  seen 
to  come  over  the  bellying  line  of  plain  which 

83 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

marked  the  horizon  in  the  direction  of  the 
Twin  Bar.  It  developed  at  once  that  Jimsey 
had  certain  opinions  which  were  not  wholly 
at  variance  with  the  giant's,  for  he  had  pro 
vided  the  yearling  with  a  double  and  mount 
ed  escort,  neither  of  whom,  it  was  plain,  had 
any  respect  for  the  business  in  hand.  They 
were  addressing  the  profanity  of  two  hemi 
spheres  at  their  charge,  who,  at  the  far  end 
of  a  long  lariat,  did  his  ablest  to  merit  their 
remarks.  His  behavior  was  marvelous  chief 
ly  from  his  way  of  proceeding  in  a  number 
of  directions  at  the  same  time.  His  head  had 
pointed  north  when  he  was  first  observed — 
when  in  a  kind  of  rotary  flourish  he  had 
waltzed  over  the  ridge  the  length  of  his  rope 
in  advance  of  his  captors — but  now,  in  the 
same  instant,  it  seemed,  he  had  got  round 
under  the  neck  of  one  of  the  broncos,  and 
while  holding  that  animal  at  a  standstill,  dis 
covered  a  powerful  interest  in  the  view  which 
this  new  position  commanded.  Next,  by  a 
series  of  deft  twists  at  the  rope,  he  wove  as 
in  a  net  a  leg  of  the  nearest  cowboy,  whose 
dexterity  barely  saved  him  the  pinch.  By  a 
skilful  and  quick  swing  the  rider  succeeded 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

in  unwinding  himself,  accompanying  the 
achievement  with  vigorous  language,  while 
he  regarded  the  captive  with  great  disfavor. 

It  required  no  second  glance  to  reveal 
that  Eureka  was  a  rough  customer,  and  that 
whenever  he  chanced  to  steer  in  the  proper 
course  it  was  merely  a  gross  oversight  on  his 
part.  At  rare  periods  he  would  show  a  dis 
position  to  elope  with  the  whole  business, 
leading  his  escort  a  merry  gallop  for  perhaps 
fifty  yards,  but  far  more  frequently  was  he 
of  a  mind  to  stop  and  argue  the  matter.  Thus 
the  triangular  procession  approached  the 
ranch  in  a  series  of  spasms. 

Now  the  farther  wall  of  the  creek  gorge, 
toward  which  the  visitors  were  advancing, 
rose  nearly  sixty  feet  above  the  bed  of  the 
stream,  and  the  nearer  bank,  scarcely  half 
so  high,  left  open  to  the  view  of  the  ranch 
men  of  the  Circle-B  a  smooth,  steep  surface, 
down  which,  following  a  diagonal  ledge,  ran 
a  bridle-path.  The  main  wagon-road,  cut 
through  the  bank  on  either  side,  was  spacious 
and  safe  to  travel,  but  they  knew,  from  Eu- 
reka's  present  conduct,  that  he  would  prefer 
the  narrower  and  perilous  route,  and  accord- 

85 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

ingly  watched  with  keen  interest  his  ap 
proach.  It  was  at  this  moment,  as  a  fitting 
figure  to  the  entertainment,  that  McCormick, 
on  the  far  side  of  the  gulch,  stalked  up  from 
the  road  into  the  open  and  began  shaking  his 
fist  at  the  approaching  delegation.  Talbot, 
from  the  porch,  chuckled  at  this  sight.  By  a 
motion  toward  the  yard-gate  the  foreman  in 
dicated  that  the  yearling  was  to  be  received  in 
the  "  best  room,"  and  as  Butternut  swung  the 
gate  open,  Eureka  and  his  escort  reached  the 
point  where  the  wagon-road  began  its  de 
scent.  Here,  as  had  been  expected,  the  year 
ling  came  to  a  deliberate  and  firm  halt, 
looking  with  disdain  down  through  the  cut. 
Surely,  thought  he,  there  was  a  more  intricate 
or  difficult  crossing.  This  was  too  infantile 
a  process. 

While  he  debated  movement,  the  sound 
of  hoofs  approaching  at  a  smart  canter  was 
heard  in  the  lane,  and  Captain  Kitty  and 
Jimsey  rode  into  view,  having  come  round  by 
the  River  Road.  They  drew  rein  instantly 
and  became  amused  spectators  of  the  per 
formance  on  the  other  side  of  the  gulch.  The 
Captain,  as  they  beheld  her,  waving  her  hand 

86 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

toward  the  ambitious  and  accomplished  Eu 
reka,  seemed  to  be  introducing  that  frisky 
animal  to  the  Circle-B. 

Eureka  gave  a  sudden  vicious  twist  of  his 
horns  and  circled  clear  of  the  road.  His 
captor — he  of  the  lariat — swearing  mightily, 
gave  him  such  a  wrench  as  to  lift  his  temper 
above  the  point  of  indulgence.  He  hurtled 
sharp  about,  and  there  was  havoc  in  his  eye. 
The  cowboy  shouted,  but  his  leap  was  slow, 
and  the  blunt  horns  of  Eureka  met  the  bronco 
square  in  the  flank.  A  shrill,  frightened 
whinny,  a  lunge,  a  stream  of  wonderful  oaths 
from  the  cowboy  as  the  lariat  spun  from  his 
grasp,  and  the  yearling  was  free  to  call  the 
whole  prairie  his  own.  Both  horsemen 
wheeling  in  pursuit,  he  made  for  the  bridle 
path,  speeding  head  down  from  the  summit, 
and  at  this  instant  Talbot  gave  tongue  as  a 
dying  man.  His  comrades  felt  no  call  to  won 
der,  no  impulse  to  wheel  at  his  groan,  over 
come  as  they  were  by  the  same  appalling  fear., 
How  on  earth  the  youngster  had  wandered 
into  the  gulch,  scaled  the  crossing-log  by  the 
ford  and  explored  the  opposite  steep  with  no 
guiding  hold  on  his  collar,  was  a  matter  for 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

subsequent  amazement;  but  certain  it  was 
that  Talbot,  Junior,  had  risen  into  view  on 
the  ledge,  directly  in  the  path  of  Eure 
ka!  Had  the  giant's  catastrophe  come  to 
hand? 

But  now  another  cry  from  the  foreman 
drew  attention  to  McCormick,  who  was 
speeding  with  great  leaps  along  the  summit, 
his  eyes  sweeping  the  canon  wall.  Within  a 
fraction  of  a  minute  he  had  gained  a  point 
whence,  by  sliding  thirty  feet  to  the  ledge,  he 
could  intercept  the  yearling,  and  that,  his 
comrades  saw  at  once,  was  his  design.  They 
knew,  too,  that  in  addition  to  the  danger  of  the 
exploit,  the  giant  held  in  his  bosom  a  terror 
unknown  to  them,  born  of  an  awe  long  in 
spired  by  a  certain  combination  of  white  and 
yellow.  To  him  it  was  likely  Eureka  came  as 
a  four-legged  demon  of  infinite  fury,  and  thus 
was  heightened  greatly  in  their  minds  the 
quality  of  his  courage.  While  the  velocity 
with  which  he  would  strike  the  ledge  might 
pitch  him  headlong  into  the  gulch,  the  possi 
bility,  if  it  occurred  to  him,  in  no  way  affected 
his  conduct.  With  a  shout  to  the  youngster  be 
low,  he  slipped  over  the  verge,  his  heels  em- 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

bedded  in  the  earth,  and  the  next  instant  was 
sailing  down  the  slant. 

And  here  occurred  the  miracle.  Eureka, 
of  course,  was  coming  at  high  speed  in  a 
direction  which  would  cause  him  to  intersect 
the  giant's  line  of  flight,  but  would  it  be  be 
fore  or  after  McCormick  reached  the  ledge? 
The  miracle  was  that  they  arrived  at  the  same 
moment,  the  giant's  heels,  dexterously  poised, 
landing  plump  into  Eureka's  round  side  with 
the  force  of  a  catapult.  The  sound  of  the 
blow  must  have  traveled  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
down  the  canon,  and  its  natural  effect  was 
to  send  Eureka  keeling  over  and  over  into  the 
gorge,  while  McCormick  sprawled  on  the 
ledge — with  Talbot,  Junior,  unscathed,  not  a 
dozen  yards  away! 

The  crisis  had  taken  scarcely  half  a  min 
ute,  during  which  time  the  spectators  had 
stood  bereft  of  all  power  of  action.  As  they 
now  sought  hurriedly  to  cross  the  canon, 
Talbot  especially  proceeding  with  amazing 
strides,  McCormick  sat  up  on  the  ledge  and 
peered  with  a  confused  and  humorous  grin 
over  the  edge.  The  shock  of  the  collision 
must  have  been  terrific,  but  apparently  he  felt 

7  fin 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

no  discomfort.  For  he  met  them,  still  grin 
ning,  at  the  far  end  of  the  crossing-log, 
and  with  the  younger  Talbot  safely  in 
charge. 

And  Eureka?  He  met  them,  too,  but 
meekly,  switching  his  tail  in  mild  surprise. 
The  onslaught  he  had  suffered  having  come 
as  a  broadside  and  sent  him  rolling,  instead 
of  pitching  him  on  his  head,  had  had  no 
worse  effect  than  to  knock  all  contrariness  out 
of  him.  McCormick,  however,  stubbornly  re 
fused  to  make  him  his  friend,  although  the 
giant  was  for  some  reason  in  most  jovial 
humor.  Butternut  judged  this  reason  was 
that  he  had  "  proved  his  case,"  and  could 
look  all  men  in  the  eye,  though  he  magnani 
mously  evaded  the  foreman's  glance. 

But  Talbot's  behavior  was  exquisite. 
After  ascending  the  bank  and  greeting  Jim- 
sey  and  his  companion  cordially,  he  took  the 
Twin  Bar  foreman  aside  for  a  brief  confer 
ence,  the  outcome  of  which  was  that  Eureka 
was  obliged  to  return  to  his  former  home  that 
very  afternoon.  Then,  gracefully,  and  in  a 
way  most  profuse,  he  apologized  to  McCor 
mick. 

90 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

Captain  Kitty  dismounted,  and,  after 
complimenting  the  giant  in  a  manner  that 
reduced  him  at  once  to  a  state  of  sottish 
beatification,  she  came  toward  Butternut  with 
a  challenging  air.  The  Lambkin  for  the  time 
seemed  as  unmoved  as  the  hitch-rack  against 
which  he  was  leaning  like  a  resting  Apollo. 
Could  he  be  posing?  She  was  angry  at  once 
with  herself  for  the  slanderous  thought,  for 
whatever  she  must  think  of  him,  she  must 
acknowledge  him  perfectly  natural  in  all  he 
said  and  did. 

"  You  seem  to  have  missed  your  oppor 
tunity,  sir,"  she  smiled. 

"For  what,  ma'am?" 

"To  be  a  hero,  sir!" 

"Oh,  that!  Well,  I  don't  make  a  good 
central  figure.  McCormick  looks  better." 

"  He  is  taller,"  she  said,  with  an  approv 
ing  eye  on  the  giant. 

"  I'm  considerably  younger.  Maybe  I'll 
grow,"  remarked  the  Lambkin,  who  could 
afford  to  smile,  for  he  had  the  perfect  pro 
portions  which  belonged  not  to  'the  giant. 
"  I'm  afraid,  though,  I'm  not  lookin'  for 
chances  in  the  hero  line.  I  like  to  make  a 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

sort  of  picture  out  o'  the  world,  and  used 
to  put  myself  in  the  middle,  till  I  found  I 
could  get  a  better  effect  by  droppin'  back  to 
a  corner  and  just  watchin'." 

"  The  world  is  not  a  picture  to  me"  she 
said,  a  little  acidly.  "  It  is  very  real." 

"  And  you  are  in  the  middle  of  it? " 
queried  Butternut. 

"  Yes.  Where  would  your  picture  be  if 
I  were  in  a  corner?  Would  you  have  us  all 
go  into  the  corners?  " 

"  Yes — if  we  would  see.  And,"  he  added, 
gently,  his  face  a  safe  and  open  confession, 
for  her  gaze  was  stranded  on  the  horizon, 
"  perhaps  other  eyes  will  set  us  in  the  mid 
dle." 

"  I  don't  see  how  accusing  a  woman  of 
vanity  can  excuse  a  man  for  being  without 
ambition,"  she  flashed. 

But  here  McCormick,  from  the  stables, 
called  that  all  hands  were  needed  in  the 
corral,  and  Butternut  hurried  off,  while  Jim- 
sey,  who  was  hanging  near,  gave  a  chuckle 
which  made  Catherine  turn  around. 

"O  Jimsey!  What  have  you  done  with 
the  horses?" 

92 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

He  gave  a  nod  to  where  they  were  safely 
tied. 

"  'Lowed  you'd  want  to  walk  up  to  the 
house.,  miss." 

They  were  passing  Butternut's  cabin, 
which  came  first  in  the  lane,  when  Catherine 
discovered  that  she  had  lost  her  whip.  It 
was  too  pretty  and  expensive  a  trifle  to  be 
left  behind.  Jimsey,  turning  back,  had  an 
idea. 

"  Wait  in  thar,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the 
open  cabin  door,  "  and  take  that  big  chair 
you  see.  Better  rest  yourself,  or  you'll  be 
feelin'  your  nerves  purty  soon." 

Catherine  really  had  begun  to  "  feel  her 
nerves  "  as  a  result  of  the  yearling  escapade, 
and  the  chair  invited  her  with  big  comfort 
able  arms.  She  put  her  faith  in  Jimsey, 
while  he  marched  off  not  more  delighted 
than  amazed  by  his  diplomacy. 

"  I  reckon  she'll  see  he's  a  gradgit  now," 
he  said  to  himself. 

Catherine  sat  down  in  the  big  chair  with 
a  little  quivering  sigh  of  comfort,  gave  a 
glance  about,  and  rose  instantly.  She  never 
seemed  to  belong  inside  of  four  walls,  and 

93 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

now  she  stood  sniffing  about  like  a  deer  in  a 
forest.  There  were  pictures  on  the  walls — 
only  etchings  and  photographs  from  paint 
ings  to  be  sure,  but  all  from  the  work  of 
masters  old  and  new,  and  on  one  side  there 
was  a  shelf  which  held  a  row  of  books.  A 
cover,  whose  soft  colors  would  have  pleased 
a  woman,  lay  over  the  couch,  which  in  any 
other  cabin  would  have  been  a  bunk.  The 
puncheon  floor  was  spotless,  the  two  win 
dows  gleamed,  and  through  one  of  them  she 
could  see  the  graceful  tendrils  of  a  wild-rose 
vine. 

"  This,"  said  Catherine,  determined  to 
deceive  herself  and  dispute  the  subtle,  inde 
finable  proof  of  ownership  which  some  indi 
viduals  impart  to  all  their  belongings,  "  is  the 
doctor's — Scotty's  cabin.  I  never  dreamed 
he  was  such  an  old  maid." 

She  returned  to  the  row  of  books,  and 
suddenly  began  to  count.  Nineteen!  Her 
glance  fell  on  the  table  under  the  shelf  where 
a  volume  of  Milton's  shorter  poems  and  son 
nets  lay.  It  looked  very  old  and  was  much 
scribbled.  Twenty!  She  turned  to  fly,  but 
there  was  the  cowboy  in  the  door.  He  had 

94 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

not  been  needed  in  the  corral.  His  puzzled, 
astonished  face  called  back  Catherine's  hu 
mor,  and  she  sat  down  in  the  chair,  laughing 
merrily,  at  which  he,  never  dispossessed  of 
his  easy  air,  took  a  seat  in  the  doorway,  an 
action  which  was  a  tacit  admission  that  he 
expected  talk  instead  of  flight,  for  he  was 
never  slow  to  take  what  the  gods  offered. 

"Jimsey  is  looking  for  my  whip.  He 
asked  me  to  wait  here.  Won't  you  introduce 
me  to  your  sweethearts?  " 

"  They'll  turn  out  old  friends,  I  guess," 
he  said,  invitingly. 

She  took  up  the  small  volume  on  the  table, 
and  he  rose  and  crossed  to  her. 

"  Yes,  that's  a  favorite ;  but  I  didn't  make 
those  notes.  It  belonged  to  an  uncle  of  mine 
who  was  a  professor  at  Princeton." 

She  was  brazenly  turning  to  the  fly-leaf 
to  read  the  name  when  he  said,  gently:  "  It 
isn't  Jones,"  and  he  wondered,  as  she  dropped 
the  book  quickly,  if  any  girl's  blush  could  be 
sweeter. 

"  Why  are  you  a  cowboy? "  she  asked, 
with  a  nonchalance  intended  to  conceal  her 
impudence,  for  she  was  fishing  for  history. 

95 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

"  Because  I  like  it.  It  beats  professor- 
ing." 

"  You  were  going  to  be  a  professor?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Anyway  I  was  scared  off 
when  I  saw  it  was  such  hard  work." 

"  But  this  is  harder." 

"  This!  This  is  not  work  at  all!  What! 
To  ride  with  the  wind,  to  be  up  and  out  with 
the  sun,  to  know  midnight  as  well  as  noon,  to 
feel  Nature  with  you  every  minute,  whether 
she's  patting  you  or  slapping  you — it's  the 
finest  play  a  fellow  can  have!" 

She  noticed  that  he  sometimes,  without 
effort,  added  his  "  g's  "  and  left  his  speech 
without  a  flaw. 

"  When  you  could  be  a  scholar  and  a  gen 
tleman?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon?  " 

"  Of  course  you're  a  gentleman,  but " 

"  All  right,  and  as  for  the  scholar,  I 
might  have  kept  it  up  in  spite  of  the  hard 
work  and  nothin'  to  eat  if  I  hadn't  begun  to 
lose  my  sweethearts.  Many  books  are  like 
some  women.  When  you  know  too  much 
about  'em,  they're  not  worth  knowin'." 

His  tone  was  divided  between  banter  and 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

bitterness,  and,  not  knowing  which  to  reply 
to,  she  said  nothing. 

"  My  uncle  could  pick  his  bard  like  a 
crow,  feather  by  feather,"  he  added,  taking 
up  the  book  she  had  dropped.  "  He  could 
count  the  bones,  could  tell  where  the  sinews 
ran,  the  sockets  fitted,  and  the  flesh  padded 
in  properly — but  he  had  lost  his  Milton." 

"  YouVe  no  new  books.  I  will  send  you 
some,"  said  Catherine,  who  had  been  scan 
ning  the  shelf  that  she  might  better  ignore  the 
return  of  Jimsey,  who  had  lounged  up  to 
the  door,  diplomatically  unremindful  of  the 
whip. 

"  Please  don't,"  he  replied,  with  unex 
pected  emphasis.  "  I  want  none  that  doesn't 
fit  with  these,  and  I'll  not  live  long  enough 
to  find  out  about  new  ones.  It  took  a  good 
many  years  to  get  these  sifted  out." 

"  Balzac  is  ancient  enough,  isn't  he?  I've 
a  beautiful  set,  and  you've  very  few  nov 
els." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  care  about  him  if  he's 
the  one  I  know.  When  my  uncle  died,  a  box 
of  his  books  came  to  my  mother,  and  I  had 
my  pick  of  'em.  There  was  a  bundle  tied  in 

97 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

heavy  paper,  and  he  had  written  on  the  out 
side,  '  Who  would  know  human  nature,  look 
within.'  Well,  I've  got  a  proper  curiosity 
to  know  somethin'  of  my  own  species,  so  I 
dove  in  and  found  a  lot  o'  stuff  that  made  me 
wish  I  was  an  honest,  respectable  bear  like 
Bismarck,  or  a  plain-faced,  out-speakin'  goat 
like  General  Custer.  Don't  you  think  it's 
better  to  forget  the  way  we've  come  in  the 
gladness  of  goin'  on?" 

"But  Balzac  goes  with  Shakespeare!" 
she  insisted. 

"  Maybe.  I  didn't  stay  with  him  long 
enough  to  find  out  his  company.  But  Shake 
speare  don't  ever  leave  the  God  quite  out. 
You  begin  to  be  afraid  you're  wallowin',  and 
all  at  once  comes  a  life-line  that  jerks  you 
up  a  million  miles  toward  the  heights.  I 
never  found  any  life-lines  in  Balzac.  I  gave 
the  books  to  a  poor  woman  who  couldn't  read, 
and  she  cut  out  the  pages  and  chinked  the 
cracks  of  her  cabin  with  'em.  Made  it  quite 
snug  for  the  winter." 

"  Well,  I  haven't  read  him  anyway,"  said 
Catherine,  at  which  naive  confession  Butter 
nut  gave  a  clear  laugh  and  drew  closer. 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

"  I  knew  you  hadn't  —  I  knew  you 
couldn't"  he  said,  then  at  the  soft,  hurried 
glance  she  gave  him  he  was  obliged  to  catch 
his  breath. 

"  I'm  such  a  stupid,"  she  said,  and  waited 
to  be  contradicted. 

"  So  am  I.  Don't  be  worried  about  that. 
We've  been  told,  you  know,  that  it's  a  long 
way  from  the  head  of  the  tallest  man  to  the 
stars,  and  it's  such  a  big  stretch  from  the 
mind  of  the  wisest  man  to  the  mind  that  made 
him  that  it  seems  hardly  worth  while  to  make 
a  start;  and  I  know  some  men  who  can't  read 
— in  a  book — that  I've  got  a  good  deal  of 
respect  for." 

Catherine's  eye  here  fell  on  a  little 
leather-bound  copy  of  Keats  which  drew  her 
admiration. 

"What  a  sweet  volume!"  she  exclaimed. 

"  That  was  my  mother's,"  he  said,  softly. 

Her  hand  dropped,  and  she  could  have 
savagely  punished  her  fingers  for  not  know 
ing  sacred  things.  Did  not  its  perfect  clean 
liness  and  gently  worn  edges  proclaim, 
"Who  touches  me  loves  me"? 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  see  it  in  your  hands," 

99 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

he  said,  picking  up  the  little  book  and  offer 
ing  it  to  her. 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  about  her?  "  asked 
Catherine,  not  nonchalantly  to  veil  her  im 
pudence,  but  with  earnest  eyes  looking  into 
his. 

"  She  was  from  Pennsylvania,"  he  said,  in 
a  tone  that  seemed  to  caress  the  bare  state 
ment.  "  One  of  her  brothers  came  West  to 
get  rich,  and  she  came  along  to  look  after 
him.  Then  she  found  my  father,  and  seemed 
to  think  he  needed  more  lookin'  after  than 
the  brother.  Anyway  she  married  him, 
though  her  brother  loaded  his  gun  and  said 
no  man  west  of  the  Mississippi  could  take 
her  out  of  his  house.  But  my  father  was  a 
native  Texan  and  had  been  through  a  good 
deal.  His  father  had  slept  on  the  prairie 
with  Sam  Houston  when  they  were  prospect- 
in'  for  Mexicans  and  Indians,  and  was  a 
member  of  the  Harrisburg  Congress  durin' 
the  Republic.  Well,  the  brother  drew  his 
gun,  but  he  wasn't  used  to  real  killin',  and 
my  father  calculated  his  nerve  wouldn't  hold 
out,  so  he  walked  right  in,  knocked  the  gun 
from  his  hand,  and  carried  my  mother  out 

100 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

before  his  eyes.  According  to  my  mother, 
my  father  was  one  of  the  bravest  men  that 
ever  lived,  but  I  judge  her  opinion  would 
have  to  be  well  salted  to  get  at  the  strict 
facts " 

Her  restless  eye  had  sighted  a  strip  of 
leather  dangling  from  the  corner  of  a  picture, 
and  she  drew  nearer  for  a  better  view,  but 
he  was  instantly  before  her,  yet  without  the 
appearance  of  haste.  An  exaggerated  deli 
cacy  made  him  feel  that  the  undue  promi 
nence  of  the  article  might  tell  too  potent  a 
tale,  and  his  face  held  the  shadow  of  a  blush 
as  he  said,  with  a  gesture  toward  the  paint 
ing: 

"  A  very  fine  effect — at  a  distance.  You 
lose  the  perspective  by  coming  close." 

But  neither  his  artfulness  nor  his  sudden 
color  escaped  her,  and  she  felt  a  genuine 
relish  at  this  key-note  to  the  highest  of  na 
tures.  Another  man  would  have  made  much 
of  rather  than  conceal  such  an  opening. 

"A  charming  study  indeed!    I  think " 

"  General  Custer,  ma'am.  He  knows  I've 
got  company." 

Her  reply  had  changed  to  a  scream  as  a 
101 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

sudden  noise  at  the  window  drew  attention 
to  the  whiskered  visage  of  the  general  who, 
having  elevated  his  forefeet  to  the  ledge,  was 
blinking  in  at  her  with  great  vigor. 

Another  interruption  at  this  moment  was 
the  abrupt  arrival  of  Mrs.  Talbot,  who,  after 
greeting  the  visitors  amiably,  said  she  hoped 
Catherine  had  recovered  her  nerves.  The 
good  lady  then  divided  her  time  between 
complimenting  the  young  woman  from  Twin 
Bar  and  pouring  a  vicious  stream  of  epithets 
and  abuse  on  the  head  of  "  that  terrible 
Eureky." 

"  I  jest  know  I'd  'a'  died  if  I'd  seen  it 
Who  you  goin'  to  try  him  on  next,  Miss 
Kitty?  " 

"  Why,  I  don't  know,"  said  Catherine, 
mischievously.  "  We'll  have  to  consult  Mr. 
Jones." 

"  Aw,  any  man  with  lots  o'  children'll  buy 
him,"  said  the  Lambkin,  soberly.  "  He'd 
make  an  elegant  merry-go-round." 

This  gentle  sally  threw  Mrs.  Talbot  at 
once  into  a  fit  of  giggles.  She  had  often 
vowed  that  Butternut  would  be  the  death  of 
her.  Catherine,  too,  was  laughing  heartily 

1 02 


CAPTAIN    KITTY    MAKES    A    CALL 

as  they  left  the  cabin,  and  when,  at  a  point 
half-way  to  the  house,  she  was  suddenly  con 
fronted  by  a  full-grown  bear,  vigorously 
pursued  by  Scotty  with  a  broom,  and  found 
her  heart  in  her  throat  for  the  third  time 
within  an  hour,  she  began  to  feel  that  this  was 
the  liveliest  if  not  the  most  delightful  ranch 
of  her  acquaintance. 


103 


CHAPTER   VII 

KING  0'  THE  PLAINS 

SPARTACUS,  King  of  the  Plains,  was  visit 
ing  at  the  Twin  Bar.  For  some  days  he  had 
been  hanging  around  Captain  Kitty's  corrals, 
running  things  in  his  usual  way,  which  is  to 
say  with  a  high  hand.  Even  his  Sunday  be 
havior  was  never  mild,  but  the  very  splendor 
of  his  appearance  protected  him,  his  magnifi 
cent  figure  entailing  an  admiration  which 
disarmed  all  hostility.  In  size  and  strength, 
as  well  as  the  majesty  of  his  horns,  his  equal 
was  not  to  be  fourid  on  the  Pecos  range,  and 
he  seemed  to  understand  that  these  attractions 
shielded  him  from  the  ill-usage  to  which  any 
common  bull  of  such  a  nature  would  have 
been  subjected.  Thus  privileged,  he  flour 
ished  as  a  despot,  General  Custer,  so  far  as 
anybody  knew,  being  the  only  creature  that 
had  ever  refused  to  be  awed  by  his  presence. 

Wherever  it  pleased  him  Spartacus 
104 


KING   O'   THE   PLAINS 

roamed  at  will,  no  kind  of  fencing  being  an 
obstacle.  If  it  chanced  to  be  of  rails,  as  was 
sometimes  the  case  in  the  timbered  country, 
he  would  simply  brush  it  aside  with  his  beau 
tiful  and  capable  horns.  But  his  method  of 
surmounting  barbed  wire  was  most  charm 
ing.  He  would  deliberately  plant  his  fore 
head  against  a  supporter,  push  two  or  three 
spans  to  the  ground,  then  pick  his  way  care 
fully  over  the  barbs.  The  first  time  Jimsey 
observed  this  performance  he  laughed  a  bois 
terous  laugh ;  the  second  time  he  took  a  large 
chew  of  tobacco  and  swore. 

Captain  Kitty  was  out  by  the  well-curb, 
with  Little  Jimsey,  when  she  saw  an  object 
which  at  first  glance  looked  something  like 
the  side  of  a  house  stepping  toward  her  across 
the  open.  Grabbing  Little  Jimsey  in  her 
arms,  she  fled  to  the  piazza,  where,  shrinking 
in  a  heap,  she  could  only  gasp : 

"  Mercy,  what  a  beast!  " 

Then  Jimsey  did  a  brutal  thing.  He 
came  and  sat  on  the  steps  by  her,  and  laughed 
long  and  heartlessly. 

"  Don't  be  skeer'd,  Miss  Kitty,"  he  finally 
assured  her.  "  It's  only  one  o'  them  freaks 
8  105 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

from  the  Circle-B.  They've  got  a  regular 
menagerie  over  there." 

"  Circle-B?  Isn't  that  the  ranch  we  vis 
ited — where  Butternut  lives?  " 

She  blushed  in  a  way  that  delighted  Jim- 
sey,  for  she  always  stumbled  over  the  name. 

"  Yes'm." 

"Oh,  then  that's  Spartacus!"  There  was 
much  relief  in  her  voice. 

The  acute  Jimsey  noticed  that  to  know 
the  animal  as  an  acquaintance  of  Butternut's 
seemed  to  make  her  fear  him  less,  and  thought 
to  himself  that  things  were  coming  along. 
He  also  decided  to  take  advantage  of  the 
moment. 

"  Yes'm,  that's  Spartacus.  The  king  o' 
these  diggin's,  miss.  You  wouldn't  think 
an  animal  o'  that  size  could  be  licked  by  a 
measly  goat,  would  you?  " 

"A  goat?    Ridiculous!" 

"  Of  course,  miss.  That's  what  I  tell  'em. 
They've  got  out  a  wild  tale  about  that  ornery 
old  goat,  General  Custer,  meetin'  Spartacus 
on  the  prairie  and  buttin'  him  around  like  a 
basket,  and  finally  makin'  him  run  like  a 
coyote.  But  they  can  tell  that  to  the  Indians. 

1 06 


KING    O'   THE    PLAINS 

Why,  Miss  Kitty,  it'd  take  the  slam-bangin'- 
est  fighter  on  four  legs  to  lick  him.  He's  the 
boss  o'  the  range,  and  though  he's  meaner 
than  sin,  I  love  him  like  a  brother.  Ever  I 
tell  you  what  he  did  for  Butternut  and  me?  " 

Captain  Kitty  shook  her  head  and  looked 
interested. 

"  It  was  last  spring,  durin'  the  freshets. 
You  see,  it  don't  rain  often  here,  but  some 
times  it  rains  enough  in  one  day  to  last  a 
couple  o'  years  if  you  could  only  sprinkle  it 
out,  and  this  was  one  o'  them  times.  Abe 
Toliver,  who  owned  a  place  on  Skull  Creek, 
about  fifty  miles  west  o'  here,  was  sellin'  out, 
and  hearin'  he  had  some  bargains  in  *  short 
horns,'  I  'lowed  I'd  amble  over  there  and 
strike  a  trade.  Well,  just  as  I  was  leaving 
along  come  Butternut  Jones,  sent  by  his  fore 
man  on  the  same  errand,  and  so  we  went  to 
gether  as  far  as  Alkali  Creek,  where  the  high 
water  sent  us  home.  But,  you  see,  the  creek 
wasn't  high  when  we  struck  it — in  fact,  it 
was  drier'n  a  horn,  and  right  there's  where 
we  got  in  a  mess.  It  was  nigh  dark  when 
we  ungirthed,  and  leavin'  our  ponies  on  the 
main  bank  and  takin'  our  saddles  and  blan- 

107 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

kets,  we  camped  for  the  night  in  a  shanty 
that  stood  on  a  knob  in  the  middle  of  the 
creek  bed — so  much  lower  than  the  main 
banks  as  to  be  well  sheltered  from  the  winds, 
yet  so  high  as  to  seem  safe  enough  from  a 
chaince  rise. 

"  We  slept  heavy,  and  what  awoke  me 
was  a  dream  of  stampedin'  cattle.  They 
seemed  a  long  way  off,  but  there  was  a  mil 
lion  of  'em,  and  all  of  'em  bellerin'  and  the 
earth  shakin'  as  they  come.  I  set  up  with  a 
jerk,  listened  a  minute,  and  guessed  what  had 
happened.  Butternut  was  still  asleep,  so  I 
hit  him  a  lively  clip — he  couldn't  have  heard 
me  holler — which  brought  him  to,  and  to 
gether  we  went  to  the  door  of  the  shanty. 

"  It  was  daylight,  there  was  little  wind, 
and  the  sun  was  comin'  up  serene  and  clear, 
as  if  it  had  never  rained  a  lick.  And  it  really 
hadn't  been  such  a  soaker  right  around  us. 
But  in  the  up-country  it  must  have  rained 
furies,  for  it  had  sent  a  flood  down  on  us  the 
like  o'  which  I've  never  seen.  You  ought 
to've  seen  that  creek — it  was  drowned.  There 
wasn't  any  creek  left.  What  we  saw  in  place 
of  it  was  a  roarin'  river  with  two  branches, 

1 08 


KING   O'   THE   PLAINS 

divergin'  above  and  joinin'  below  our  cabin, 
leavin'  a  torrent  about  fifteen  yards  wide  and 
nigh  as  deep  between  us  and  the  ponies.  The 
water  had  jumped  up  more'n  twenty  feet  in 
the  night  and  made  our  knob  an  island,  and 
she  was  still  climbin'  at  an  amazin'  rate.  A 
little  more  rise  and  we  would  be  yanked  into 
the  current.  The  flood  was  already  'in  a 
foot  of  the  door,  and  a  few  inches  more  and 
our  shanty  would  be  caught  in  the  torrent 
and  join  the  procession  of  brush  and  drift 
wood  that  tore  past  us  from  the  uplands. 

"  But  the  worst  noise  wasn't  nigh  us. 
Down  the  canon  we  could  hear  a  tremen 
dous  roarin'  where  the  ravine,  turnin'  sharp, 
caused  the  torrent  to  sorter  rise  on  its  hind- 
legs  and  batter  itself  into  a  lather  before 
passin'  round  the  bend.  And  this  was  what 
made  our  position  particular  embarrassing 
for  to  be  caught  up  by  the  tide  and  hustled 
like  a  chunk  o'  timber  through  the  elbow 
was  a  dubious  entertainment. 

"  And  there  was  no  way  out  of  it  that  we 
could  see.  Swimmin'  across  the  fifteen  yards 
against  such  a  current  was  plum  out  o'  the 
question,  though  there  might  have  been  a 

109 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

chaince  of  it  but  for  the  shape  o'  the  main 
bank.  She  sloped  only  at  a  point  just  op 
posite  us,  where  the  wagon-road  had  been 
chiseled  through  to  a  slant.  From  the  ford 
to  the  bend  below  she  was  steep  and  smooth 
like  a  cliff,  and  there  was  no  catchin'  hold, 
so  we  would  have  had  to  swim  in  a  straight 
line,  and  that  wasn't  to  be  thought  of.  The 
torrent  would  sweep  us  down  and  send  us 
churnin'  through  the  elbow  before  we  could 
take  three  strokes. 

"  Well,  there  wasn't  anything  to  do  but 
wait,  and  let  me  tell  you  that  waitin'  to  be 
drowned  on  an  empty  stomach  ain't  any  pic 
nic  pastime.  There  was  a  slim  chaince  that 
the  flood  might  not  rise  high  enough  to  catch 
us,  and  that  was  the  only  hope  we  had.  But 
she  kept  comin'  up,  inch  by  inch,  until  there 
was  scarcely  standin'  room  outside  the  cabin. 
Opposite  us,  just  over  the  top  of  the  bank, 
we  could  see  the  wet  heads  of  our  ponies, 
and  that's  the  first  time  I  ever  wished  I  was 
a  hawss. 

"  I  was  powerful  excited,  but  Butternut 
was  cool  as  a  sandwich,  as  he  always  is.  He's 
the  hardest  man  to  flurry  I  ever  see.  '  Jim- 
no 


KING   O'   THE    PLAINS 

sey,'  says  he,  *  if  the  ponies  were  a  little  closer 
we  could  make  it,'  but  I  didn't  catch  his  idee 
till  a  minute  afterward  he  dived  into  the 
shanty  and  come  out  with  a  long  snake  lariat 
that  he'd  got  from  his  saddle.  Then,  as  he 
began  to  loop  and  coil  for  a  throw,  I  looked 
again  at  the  bank  and  saw  another  head — 
big  as  a  barrel,  with  two  tremendous  horns — 
on  the  horizon,  a  little  to  the  south  of  our 
ponies,  and  the  next  minute  old  Spartacus 
ambled  casually  up  to  where  the  road  sloped 
down  through  the  cut.  He  was  out  early  to 
inspect  the  damage  by  the  rain,  I  guess.  Any 
other  time  he'd  a  tried  to  start  a  row  with 
the  ponies,  but  I  reckon  the  noise  o'  the  river 
attracted  him;  anyhow  he  come  slow  and 
solemn  as  a  church  down  the  slant,  and  stood 
close  by  the  howlin'  water.  The  flood  was 
now  'in  three  inches  of  our  boots. 

"  Well,  Spartacus  hadn't  fairly  begun  to 
take  in  the  scene  before  Butternut  leaped  past 
the  end  o'  the  cabin  to  get  swingin'  room.  I 
hardly  believed  he  could  make  it  at  that  dis 
tance,  but,  as  I  said,  there  was  little  wind. 
Spartacus  hadn't  moved  after  comin'  to  a 
halt,  and  was  lookin'  straight  at  us,  when 

in 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Butternut  circled  the  noose  wide  and  clean, 
and  sent  it  swishing  out  across  the  water,  till, 
risin'  and  fallin'  in  a  fine  curve,  it  settled 
hoop-like  over  the  bull's  horns  and  was 
drawn  tight  and  safe.  Nothin'  was  ever 
neater. 

"  Well,  he  started  inland  at  once,  and  we 
both  grabbed  the  lariat  just  as  he  wheeled 
and  got  his  big  back  under  the  rope.  In 
another  minute  we  was  pulled  down,  floun- 
derin'  in  the  water  and  hangin'  on  as  if  we 
had  hold  of  a  cable  to  a  tug-boat.  Lucky 
the  lariat  was  new  and  strong,  or  it  would 
have  been  broken  by  his  first  ugly  rush. 
But  he  had  to  slacken  speed.  Even  his 
strength  couldn't  pull  against  such  a  current 
faster  than  a  walk,  and  I  don't  believe  we 
could  have  kept  our  hold  if  he  hadn't  slowed 
up.  Of  course  he  was  b'ilin'  mad,  but  he 
had  to  move  as  slow  as  if  hitched  to  a  plow. 

"  The  water  tore  over  and  past  us  with 
such  fury  that  we  seemed  to  be  movin'  at 
fearful  speed.  Sometimes  we  was  pulled  up 
as  if  on  a  crest,  long  enough  to  get  breath, 
then  the  action  o'  the  current  sent  us  wal- 
lowin'  below  the  surface  till  we  thought  we 

112 


KING   O'   THE    PLAINS 

must  drown,  then  up  again  we  were  hauled. 
Once  a  mass  of  brush  struck  us  with  nigh 
fatal  effect.  It  didn't  check  the  bull's  stride, 
but  it  nearly  broke  my  grip  for  a  second. 
Suddenly  it  went  down  under  us,  liftin'  us 
half  out  o'  the  water,  then  as  it  was  sucked 
from  beneath  our  legs  we  were  plunged  un 
der  again.  Anything  like  a  log  or  slab  would 
have  done  for  us,  but  the  bigger  driftwood 
was  tearin'  down  the  main  stream. 

"  I  was  just  thinkin'  my  strength  couldn't 
last,  and  that  I'd  have  to  turn  loose,  when  we 
struck  bottom,  and  went  completely  out  o'  the 
water,  with  our  shoulders  on  the  slope.  And 
let  me  tell  you,  Miss  Kitty,  we  didn't  have 
a  minute  to  spare.  By  the  time  we  walked 
up  the  slant  and  come  round  to  the  edge  o' 
the  high  bank,  the  flood  had  swallowed  our 
island,  and  we  saw  the  shanty  picked  up  like 
a  chip  and  churned  to  splinters  in  the  elbow. 
We  lost  a  couple  of  powerful  good  saddles, 
but  it  didn't  worry  us." 

The  foreman  paused,  looked  with  furtive 
eye  at  Captain  Kitty,  saw  that  she  was  lis 
tening  intently,  and  resumed: 

"  But  that  Butternut  Jones!  Miss  Kitty, 
"3 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

you  certainly  spoke  the  truth  when  you  said 
he  was  the  bravest  fellow  you  ever  saw.  Do 
you  know  what  he  said  to  me  when  he  had 
that  bull  by  the  horns?  He  tried  to  make 
me  take  the  lariat  alone,  sayin',  '  Jimsey, 
you're  a  married  man,  and  she  may  not  hold 
us  both;  you  can  throw  one  of  the  pony  ropes 
to  me.'  And  he  said  it  just  as  cool  and  calm 
as  if  he  was  offerin'  me  a  cigarette.  But  I 
know'd  the  man  that  stayed  would  be  drowned 
before  another  rope  could  git  to  him,  though 
it  was  only  when  Spartacus  was  well  started 
and  he  saw  that  I  just  wouldn't  go  alone  that 
he  give  in.  He's  the  bravest  man  that  ever 
buckled  a  girth,  Miss  Kitty." 

Like  a  strategic  general  the  astute  Jimsey 
had  withheld  his  climax  till  the  last,  and 
while  he  was  not  sure  that  it  had  had  a 
broadside  effect,  he  was  confident  it  had 
sunk  in. 

Captain  Kitty  had  listened  breathlessly  to 
this  wonderful  tale,  which,  while  most  con 
vincingly  told,  was  something  she  was  in 
clined  to  discredit.  But  whether  true  or 
not,  it  had  been  highly  entertaining.  She 
had  really  been  thrilled  somewhere  in  the 

114 


KING    O'   THE    PLAINS 

narrative,  but  at  what  particular  point  can 
not  be  told. 

It  is  known,  however,  that  when  she  re 
tired  to  slumber  that  evening  it  was  to  see  in 
a  wild  dream  a  far-off  mountain  turn  to  a 
great  bull,  and  a  man  on  a  calico  pony  ride 
up  its  side,  and  on  up  one  of  the  mighty 
horns,  at  the  tip  of  which  he  vanished. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

TREACHEROUS  MOONLIGHT 

IT  seemed  but  a  day  or  two  since  Bis- 
marck  was  a  cub,  a  frisky,  innocent  young 
thing,  brought  to  the  Circle-B  in  a  blanket 
by  the  gentle  Butternut.  How  on  earth  the 
animal  got  that  name  can  no  more  be  told  than 
where  the  Lambkin  got  him,  and  on  that  point 
Butternut  himself  is  the  most  bewildered. 

Somewhere  in  Clover  Gulch,  he  said,  he 
was  riding  leisurely  when  there  came  the 
noise  of  a  sudden  scuffling  above  him,  and 
from  out  of  the  brush  and  rocks,  square  on 
to  his  saddle-pack,  bounced  a  fuzzy  round 
object,  which  he  held  toward  the  moon  and 
discovered  to  be  a  very  young  bear.  The 
onslaught,  it  was  evident,  was  wholly  invol 
untary  and  without  malice,  for  it  was  fol 
lowed  by  no  offering  of  violence,  the  one  de 
sire  of  the  animal  being  at  the  moment  to 

116 


TREACHEROUS    MOONLIGHT 

simply  obtain  grip  enough  with  his  small 
claws  to  hold  on  while  the  bronco  jolted  him 
ranchward. 

This  had  happened  more  than  a  year 
ago,  and  meanwhile  Bismarck  had  grown 
amazingly.  His  air  of  authority,  too,  had  in 
creased  with  his  bulk  until  it  was  plain  that, 
next  to  General  Custer,  he  regarded  himself 
as  owner  of  the  ranch  and  everything  on  it, 
though  this  conceit  was  forgiven  as  readily 
as  were  his  comical  manners.  It  was  amus 
ing  to  watch  him  stalk  importantly  about  the 
yards,  sometimes  alone  with  his  dignity,  some 
times  jawing  with  the  general,  and  laughable 
to  see  his  clumsy  body  double  into  a  circle 
when  he  endeavored  to  sit  like  a  gentleman. 
Being  as  peaceable  as  any  kitten,  he  was  at 
liberty  to  go  wherever  his  fancy  might  lead, 
though  it  was  firmly  believed  that  he  accepted 
the  privilege  as  a  matter  of  course.  Anyhow, 
he  became  a  great  gadabout,  spending  most 
of  his  time  gossiping  with  the  inhabitants  of 
the  barn-yard  and  corrals.  Having  known 
no  home  save  these  places,  every  beast  and 
fowl  was  his  friend,  and  even  the  blackbirds 
learned  to  alight  and  scamper  on  his  back 

117 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

with  the  same  good-fellowship  they  showed 
old  Samson,  the  level-horned  bull. 

But  Butternut  was  most  privileged,  and 
therefore  happiest  of  them  all,  which  was  his 
right.  For  was  he  not  Bismarck's  first  and 
only  master?  When  the  cub  had  fallen  out 
of  the  clouds  into  a  strange  country,  had  he 
not  been  the  first  to  offer  him  a  home?  These 
things  entitled  him  to  a  certain  royal  inti 
macy  with  the  animal,  which  he  was  careful 
to  show  on  all  occasions.  With  a  familiarity 
calculated  to  consume  his  comrades  with 
envy,  he  would  haul  the  bear  about  by  the 
ears,  or  gleefully  roll  with  him  among  the 
corn-shucks. 

In  a  general  rough-and-tumble  they  were 
about  evenly  matched.  There  was  a  time,  in 
the  days  of  Bismarck's  early  growth,  when 
he  appeared  rather  helpless  in  these  combats, 
but  now  it  was  different.  Butternut  found 
one  day  that  it  kept  him  quite  busy  to  hold 
his  own  in  a  tussle,  and  accustomed  so  long 
to  ready  victory,  took  a  keen  pleasure  in  the 
change.  His  first  downfall  so  surprised  him 
that  he  ungenerously  started  to  box  his 
adversary's  ears,  but  after  a  second  and 

118 


TREACHEROUS    MOONLIGHT 

third  defeat  he  straightway  apologized.  The 
Lambkin  never  attached  a  liberal  value  to 
an  opponent  until  his  worth  was  fully  proved, 
when  he  stood  at  once  ready  to  take  off  his 
hat  and  honor  him  accordingly. 

Now  Bismarck  was  so  fond  of  the  Lamb 
kin  that  he  wanted  to  follow  him  everywhere, 
and  one  afternoon,  when  Butternut  was  pre 
paring  to  ride  over  to  the  post-office,  he  came 
down  by  the  gate  and  spoke  in  growls  of  the 
pleasure  it  would  give  him  to  make  the  jour 
ney  too.  But  this  was  ridiculous,  as  the  dis 
tance,  counting  both  ways,  was  a  dozen  miles, 
and  the  Lambkin  expected  to  cover  it  in  a 
hurry.  Bismarck,  however,  was  determined, 
and  rubbed  himself  insistently  against  the  legs 
of  both  the  Lambkin  and  his  pony,  which 
caused  Terrapin,  who  was  docile  only  when 
not  surprised,  to  suddenly  and  vigorously  lift 
his  rear  hoofs.  Butternut  was  standing  di 
rectly  behind  him,  but  fortunately  so  close 
that  the  animal's  heels  were  against  his  breast 
before  they  shot  outward,  otherwise  the  re 
sult  might  have  been  serious.  As  it  hap 
pened,  he  was  simply  raised  clear  of  the 
earth,  and,  after  traveling  backward  five 

119 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

paces,  landed  on  a  barrel,  which,  rolling, 
broke  the  force  of  his  fall.  The  incident, 
however,  was  quite  enough  to  arouse  the 
wrath  of  the  mildest  man,  and  it  left  the 
Lambkin  furious.  Terrapin  he  could  not 
blame,  so  directed  all  his  anger  toward  the 
bear. 

"You  howlin'  fool!  For  two  shucks  I'd 
break  you  in  two!  " 

Bismarck,  drooping  his  head,  whined 
many  regrets,  but  the  Lambkin,  with  no  gen 
tle  hands,  seized  him  and  hauled  him  toward 
the  creek,  whose  high  and  steep  bank  stood 
back  of  the  cow-pens.  The  animal  howled 
bitterly,  and  sought  with  craft  to  get  a  hold 
on  his  master's  clothing,  but  Butternut  dex 
terously  kept  the  length  of  his  arm  between 
them.  A  series  of  vicious  tugs  brought  them 
to  the  verge  of  the  bank,  and  the  next  moment 
Bismarck,  by  a  deft  movement  of  the  Lamb 
kin's  foot,  was  sent  whirling  over  and  over 
down  the  incline.  Growling  and  howling, 
and  clawing  up  the  dust,  he  tumbled  and 
slid  until  finally,  clearing  the  slant  for  sev 
eral  feet,  he  swooped  into  the  pool  below. 
There,  as  he  splashed  about,  his  growl  be- 

120 


TREACHEROUS    MOONLIGHT 

came  more  like  a  roar,  which  caused  the 
Lambkin  to  laugh  in  wicked  glee,  even  as  he 
rubbed  his  chest. 

It  would  take  some  minutes  for  Bismarck 
to  reach  the  ford  crossing  and  return  to  high 
ground,  and  it  was  not  at  all  likely  that  he 
was  now  in  the  mood  for  travel.  Meanwhile 
Butternut,  whose  journey  lay  in  another  di 
rection,  could  be  well  on  his  way,  and  accord 
ingly,  with  a  satisfied  smirk  over  his  exploit, 
the  Lambkin  strode  to  his  bronco,  and  swing 
ing  airily  into  the  stirrups,  rode  at  a  lively 
pace  down  the  wagon-lane.  And  as  he  rode, 
the  way  he  had  routed  Bismarck  struck  him 
as  highly  humorous. 

"  Now,  didn't  he  do  it  handsomely!"  he 
chuckled.  "  And  wasn't  it  a  circus  to  see 
him  slide!"  Then  he  added,  doubtingly: 
"  He'll  want  to  lick  me,  tho',  when  I  get 
back." 

Which  wasn't  a  bad  surmise.  For  Bis 
marck,  while  his  disposition  had  been  friend 
ly  from  birth,  was  keenly  sensitive  when  it 
came  to  gross  injury,  and  such  direct  and 
violent  abuse  he  would  not  be  likely  to  over 
look.  The  chances  were  excellent  that  he 
9  121 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

would  take  a  few  rounds  out  of  the  Lambkin 
on  the  latter's  return. 

Butternut  observed  that  the  afternoon  was 
gliding  into  evening,  which  pleased  him,  for 
night  traveling  was  always  a  joy  to  his  poetic 
soul.  He  loved  to  ride  at  twilight  through 
the  treeless,  tranquil  hills,  fencing  pastures 
among  the  stars,  or  garnering  messages  of 
mystery  from  the  morose  whisperings  of  the 
night.  As  a  result  of  the  mood  which  now 
enveloped  him  his  hurry  was  forgotten,  and 
soon  he  was  riding  at  a  walk  by  the  pastures 
and  fields. 

And  when  he  met  Jimsey,  a  little  later,  at 
Panther  Ford,  he  was  quite  disposed  to  pass 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  valueless  converse. 
The  Twin  Bar  lay  some  miles  west  of  the 
Circle-B,  and  Jimsey  was  homeward  bound. 
His  greeting  was  most  hilarious,  and  the 
Lambkin  was  glad  to  his  heels.  For  some 
reason  of  late  he  was  always  happy  to  see 
Jimsey.  They  talked  at  some  length.  They 
inquired  the  health  of  everybody  in  their  re 
spective  localities,  alluded  with  fine  irony  to 
the  judgment  displayed  by  a  mutual  friend  in 
a  recent  "  hawss "  trade,  mentioned  the  com- 

122 


TREACHEROUS    MOONLIGHT 

ing  dance  on  Green  Fork,  and,  in  short,  found 
so  many  topics  to  discuss  that  it  was  heavy 
dusk  ere  they  separated. 

The  Lambkin,  as  they  rode  apart,  called 
back,  as  an  after-thought:  "  By  the  way,  Jim- 
sey,  that  pesky  bear  o'  mine  may  be  followin' 
me,  and  in  case  you  meet  him,  just  rope  him 
and  lead  him  home  as  a  favor." 

Jimsey,  laughing  noisily,  assented,  and 
Butternut  rode  onward,  musing  lightly  on 
the  probability  of  his  attending  the  Green 
Fork  dance. 

His  way,  from  Panther  Ford,  was  a  grav 
elly  road,  winding  with  the  stream  down  the 
gorge,  along  which  stood  the  only  timber 
within  many  miles.  The  moon,  which  had 
been  in  view  long  before  dusk,  slanting 
through  the  cottonwoods,  cast  luminous 
"  crazy  "  patches  athwart  the  gulch. 

The  Lambkin  could  never  say  where  he 
first  became  aware  that  Bismarck  was  follow 
ing  him,  but  believed  it  to  be  at  a  point 
about  a  mile  from  the  ford.  At  first  he  strove 
not  to  credit  his  sight,  thinking,  in  view  of 
Jimsey's  compact,  that  the  moonlight  was  de 
ceiving  him.  Then  he  sought  to  build  the 

123 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

object  into  some  other  animal,  but  it  was  too 
round  and  thick  for  dog  or  wolf.  Jimsey, 
jthen,  had  let  him  slip  by. 

For  a  moment  the  Lambkin's  chagrin  was 
about  to  swell  into  an  outburst,  but  softened 
instead  into  supreme  disgust.  As  the  bear 
neared  him  he  pulled  rein,  and  turning,  with 
his  thigh  across  the  saddle,  addressed  him 
reproachfully  and  with  weariness: 

"  Biz,  I'm  ashamed  o'  you.  Do  you  know 
you're  wearin'  my  patience  plum  to  fraz 
zles?" 

Bismarck  had  halted  for  an  instant,  then 
continued  his  approach,  and  now  stood  mo 
tionless,  his  eyes  glittering  warily.  The 
Lambkin  began  to  lecture  him: 

"  You're  an  idiot,  that's  what  you  are,  sir 
— the  biggest  idiot  in  this  township.  You're 
the  foolishest  '  critter '  that  ever  wore  hair." 

Bismarck  whined  a  protest. 

The  Lambkin,  naturally,  each  moment 
that  he  scolded  felt  himself  the  more  deeply 
injured,  and  finally  could  not  resist  the  im 
pulse  to  dismount  and  approach  his  auditor 
threateningly.  Bismarck  at  once  rose  on  his 
haunches  and  began  moving  his  forepaws  up 

124 


TREACHEROUS    MOONLIGHT 

and  down  in  the  manner  of  a  boxer  on  the 
defensive. 

The  Lambkin  advanced  upon  him  and 
gave  him  a  brisk  rap  on  the  ear. 

"  Go  home,  you  mule-headed  baboon! 
D'you  hear?  Git!  " 

But  Bismarck  showed  no  inclination  to 
retreat.  On  the  contrary,  he  seemed  the  more 
determined  to  hold  his  ground.  He  whined 
again,  and  then  suddenly  roared  mightily, 
assuming  a  most  ferocious  aspect.  But  the 
Lambkin  was  used  to  that.  It  was  a  favorite 
trick  of  the  bear's,  when  losing  the  advantage 
in  a  scuffle,  to  try  to  frighten  his  adversary 
with  the  noise  of  his  voice  and  the  sudden 
taking  on  of  a  savage  look.  But  this  had 
grown  so  old  to  Butternut  that  it  made  him 
laugh  to  have  it  tried  on  him  now.  By  way 
of  humoring  Biz,  however,  in  order  the 
greater  to  ruffle  him  finally,  the  Lambkin 
dodged  and  ducked  away  as  though  in  terror. 
The  next  moment  he  had  stridden  up  to  Bis 
marck  and  tormentingly  struck  the  big  black 
nose  with  his  knuckles.  The  animal  uttered 
another  roar,  which  filled  Butternut  with  de 
light,  and  lunged  his  heavy  body  at  the  cow- 

125 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

boy,  who  sprang  out  of  his  way  and,  twisting 
his  foot  under  the  legs  of  the  bear,  flung  him 
upon  his  side.  The  Lambkin's  favorite  trick 
was  quite  as  old  as  Bismarck's,  but  in  this  case 
a  very  pretty  success.  However,  Bismarck, 
after  rolling  ingloriously,  was  at  once  on  his 
feet,  and  came  at  him  so  fiercely  that  Butter 
nut  for  a  moment  feared  he  was  in  earnest, 
but  immediately  the  Lambkin  was  laughing 
and  dancing  nimbly  about,  alert  for  the  open 
ing  of  which  he  had  availed  himself  before. 
It  came  presently,  and  again  making  a  quick 
and  deft  thrust  with  his  foot,  he  twirled  Bis 
marck  upon  his  back. 

"  You  won't  go,  hey?  You  web-footed, 
thumb-bitin'  woodchuck!  Then  I'll  have  to 
take  you." 

The  Lambkin  usually  enjoyed  nothing  so 
much  as  a  frolic  with  Biz,  but  just  now  his 
hurry  came  on  him  again,  and,  thoroughly 
provoked,  he  resolved  to  escort  the  animal 
home  and  lock  him  in  the  stable.  But  before 
doing  this  he  would  have  one  more  "  go  " 
with  him,  and  this  time  (with  a  grim  desire 
to  show  the  bear  that  he  was  master  at  any 
style  of  encounter)  they  would  wrestle  it  out 

126 


TREACHEROUS    MOONLIGHT 

at  close  quarters.  However,  in  this  bout  he 
must  secure  "  the  under-holt."  It  would 
never  do  for  Bismarck  to  get  him  round 
the  waist.  Accordingly,  as  the  animal  now 
rushed,  he  squared  off  with  alert  eye,  deter 
mined  to  seize  the  right  moment  for  clos 
ing  in. 

But,  balancing  forward,  he  stopped 
abruptly,  his  face  pallid  as  the  moonlight. 
Bismarck  was  coming  for  him;  but,  ignoring 
an  instant  the  ways  of  the  battle,  his  gaze 
went  beyond,  where  up  the  gorge  came  Jim- 
sey  in  brisk  pursuit  of  a  massive  black  object 
whose  lumbering,  awkward  gait  awoke  mem 
ories  in  the  Lambkin's  mind. 

With  a  wild,  terrified  yell  he  sprang  aside, 
escaping  by  an  inch  the  lunge  of  his  antag 
onist,  who,  apparently  alarmed  by  the  ap 
proaching  hoofs,  did  not  wheel,  but  scurried 
away  down  the  gulch.  A  moment  afterward 
the  animal  in  advance  of  Jimsey  was  rubbing 
his  thick  body  cat-like  against  the  Lambkin's 
legs,  and  Jimsey,  halted  near,  was  saying, 
apologetically: 

"  Couldn't  rope  him  no  more'n  I  could 
rope  a  coyote.  Ever'  time  I'd  throw  he'd 

127 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

squat  flatter'n  a  skillet.  Met  him  less'n  half 
a  mile  t'other  side  the  ford,  V  been  tryin'  to 
head  him  off —  What's  ailin'  you,  Butter 
nut?  " 

The  Lambkin  seemed  bereft  of  speech. 
He  had  been  seized  by  a  faintness  in  every 
limb,  and  would  have  sunk  at  once  to  the 
ground  had  not  Bismarck  propped  his  broad 
back  against  him. 

"  Jimsey,"  he  mumbled,  finally,  "  is  your 
gun  handy?  " 

"  You  bet  she  air."  The  foreman's  six- 
shooter  glistened  in  the  moonlight. 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  mind,  Jimsey,  I  wish 
you'd  turn  her  on  me  and  let  her  go.  It'll 
be  a  clean  waste  o'  lead,  I  know,  but  I  really 
ought  not  to  live."  There  was  a  prayer  in 
the  Lambkin's  voice. 

"  What  ye  done,  Butternut?  " 

"Done!  Jimsey,  Jimsey,  what  haven't  I 
done?  Before  you  came  in  sight  I  was  over 
taken  by  a  bear! " 

"  Lambkin,  Lambkin!  That  wasn't  a  Var 
you  was  frolickin'  with?  " 

"  Yes,  Jimsey,  a  bear  of  full  size.  I — I 
thought  it  was  Biz!  " 

128 


TREACHEROUS    MOONLIGHT 

"  Oh,  you— Lambkin!  " 

"  And  I  boxed  his  ears  with  my  hands  and 
gave  him  a  couple  o'  clips  on  the  nose!  " 

"  You  buzzard!" 

"  I  was  just  goin'  to  wrestle  him,  Jimsey, 
when  you  interrupted  the  game.  I  was  just 
lookin'  for  the  under-holt!  And  when  he  got 
savage,  I  thought  he  was  just  bluffin',  and — 
Jimsey,  Jimsey!"  The  Lambkin  fanned  the 
air  with  his  hands.  "  Either  shoot  quick  or 
turn  me  into  a  corn-field  and  let  me  lose  my 
self!" 

He  was  really  in  a  bad  state,  the  enormity 
of  the  blunder  affecting  him  far  more  deeply 
than  the  conscious  facing  of  any  danger  could 
have  done.  His  legs  wobbled  from  partial 
paralysis,  and  his  teeth  clicked  vibrantly  in 
the  night.  Finally  he  succeeded  in  shambling 
over  to  his  pony,  waiting  patiently  by  the 
roadside,  and  clambered  laboredly  into  the 
saddle. 

Jimsey,  whose  laughter  was  like  nothing 
if  not  like  the  screeches  of  a  panther,  headed 
the  procession  homeward,  Bismarck  trailing 
behind  the  Lambkin,  whose  journey  for  the 
mail  was  obliged  to  await  another  day. 

129 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  GREEN   FORK  DANCE 

EARLY  September. 

The  first  dance  of  the  season  was  to  occur 
at  Colonel  Jake  Baldwin's  ranch,  near  the 
head  of  the  stream  known  as  Green  Fork, 
and  in  the  moonlit  dusk  of  the  important 
evening  wagon-loads  of  families  and  bunches 
of  horsemen  were  moving  from  every  quar 
ter  over  the  plain  toward  a  common  center, 
as  to  a  magnet.  As  these  converging  caval 
cades  approached  the  blinking  windows  of 
the  ranch-house,  the  night  was  filled  with  the 
noise  of  mirth.  The  occupants  of  the  vehicles 
conversed  in  glee  on  every  conceivable  topic, 
or  screamed  in  feigned  terror  as  they  passed 
a  hazardous  unevenness  in  the  trail,  while  the 
jocund  cowboys  rode  riotously,  with  many  a 
gibe  and  jest  between  the  merry  gleams  of 
cigarettes. 

Through  the  purple  evening,  from  the 
trees  which  lined  the  stream,  came  the  clan- 

130 


THE   GREEN    FORK   DANCE 

gorous  song  of  the  insects,  and  perfumed 
peace  filled  the  land. 

Colonel  Baldwin  had  himself  gone  care 
fully  about  his  house  and  yards,  casting  a 
sagacious  eye  into  every  corner  to  see  that  no 
preparations  were  lacking  for  the  comfort 
and  convenience  of  his  prospective  guests. 
For  the  jaded  ponies  soon  to  assemble  he  had 
seen  that  there  was  plenty  of  his  choicest  hay 
accessible,  and  that  an  extra  pole  and  post 
had  been  added  to  the  long  hitching-rack  in 
front  of  the  house. 

The  wide,  long  dining-room,  built  with 
a  view  to  just  such  events,  had  been  cleared 
of  its  usual  furniture,  and  benches,  contrived 
by  the  laying  of  planks  on  kegs  and  boxes, 
placed  along  the  walls.  At  one  end  of  the 
room  were  two  barrels,  and  on  these  had  been 
placed  a  couple  of  chairs  for  the  orchestra. 
Fiddling  Larry  of  the  "  Loop-and-L  "  was  to 
officiate,  assisted  by  Mr.  Pete  Sanchez,  the 
barber  of  Fairfield,  who  "  sawed  a  little  now 
and  then."  This  latter  gentleman,  by  the 
way,  had  already  arrived  with  his  instrument, 
and,  though  at  the  time  there  was  not  a  guest 
in  sight,  and  the  dancing  could  not  begin  for 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

a  good  hour,  had  carefully  seated  himself  on 
his  barrel  and  was  now  steadily  confronting 
the  vacant  room. 

The  expectant  Colonel,  on  his  piazza, 
tranquilly  stroked  his  goatee  and  smiled  at 
the  encroaching  sounds  of  vitality. 

In  one  of  the  groups  of  cavaliers  rode  the 
garrulous  Jimsey,  and  he  was  playing  But 
ternut  false.  With  many  a  grin  and  eloquent 
gesture  of  the  hand,  he  was  telling  of  a  late 
episode  in  which  a  friend  of  his,  in  the  moon 
light,  had  embraced  a  wild  bear,  thinking  he 
was  tame.  His  remarks  from  time  to  time, 
were  greeted  with  howls. 

"  But  you'll  have  to  defend  me,  boys,  if 
he  ever  knows  I  told!  You  all  kin  swear  that 
I  never  mentioned  any  names!  " 

His  companions  screeched  tumultuously. 

"  You  bet,"  sawed  a  heavy  voice,  "  and 
tame  b'ars  air  so  powerful  thick  roun'  hyer 
thet  I  reckon  we  air  likely  to  git  him  con 
fused — haw!  haw!  haw!" 

Another  cluster  of  blithe  riders,  descend 
ing  the  last  hill  of  their  journey,  burst  hilari 
ously  into  song: 

"  If  you  can't  be  a  bell-cow,  fall  in  behind." 

132 


THE    GREEN    FORK   DANCE 

In  delivering  this  chorus  after  the  second 
stanza  they  were  interrupted  by  a  new  sound. 

Fiddling  Larry  came  alone  over  the  plain, 
his  instrument  held  caressingly  to  his  bosom, 
his  cigarette  twinkling  like  a  lightning-bug. 
As  he  rode  over  a  hill  at  a  point  which 
brought  the  ranch-house  windows  into  view, 
he  was  suddenly  moved  to  music,  and,  draw 
ing  his  riddle  from  its  flannel  bag,  sent  the 
strains  of  "  Suwanee  River  "  winding  over  the 
valley.  And  Larry  was  nothing  if  not  a  fid 
dler.  He  knew  little  of  "  minors  "  or  "  flats," 
but  the  way  he  could  pluck  the  soul  from  his 
instrument  was  a  revelation.  From  softest 
cadence  to  the  deepest  mellow  notes  he  could 
trill  with  a  master's  skill,  and  as  he  now  gave 
this  sentimental  air  to  the  breezeless  night,  all 
human  voices  were  stilled.  It  was  this  sud 
den  stream  of  melody  that  cleft  the  cowboys' 
chorus  in  half,  and  it  also  caused  Jimsey,  fur 
ther  detailing  his  "  story,"  to  pause  in  the  act 
of  gesturing,  his  hand  suspended  in  the  air. 
In  but  one  quarter,  however,  did  it  come  near 
to  having  a  calamitous  effect.  Winding 
across  the  valley,  and  stealing  in  at  the  win 
dows  of  the  Colonel's  dining-room,  it  caught 

133 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

the  ear  of  the  barber  of  Fairfield,  and  aroused 
him  so  abruptly  from  his  state  of  abstraction 
that  he  narrowly  escaped  toppling  from  his 
barrel  and  bringing  disaster  to  his  instrument. 
He  had  not  heard  Fiddling  Larry,  the  musi 
cian.  He  had  heard  the  leader  of  the  orches 
tra,  and  like  a  trained  soldier  had  given 
attention. 

Of  course  all  the  revelers  did  not  reach 
the  Colonel's  at  the  same  time,  nor  yet  in  the 
same  hour.  From  one  to  forty  miles  they  had 
come,  and,  while  most  of  them  had  timed 
their  start  according  to  distance,  it  was  near 
ten  o'clock  before  there  was  a  gathering  of 
importance. 

Besides  Fiddling  Larry  and  the  barber  of 
Fairfield,  there  was  another  man  who  came 
alone  to  this  event.  Butternut,  on  his  calico 
pony,  rode  thoughtfully  through  the  hills, 
just  as  he  had  ridden  for  the  mail  a  week  be 
fore.  At  home,  by  an  invented  pretext,  he 
had  sent  his  comrades  ahead  and  spent  an 
hour  with  his  books  before  starting  on  the 
twelve-mile  journey.  He  had  been  tempted 
not  to  come  at  all,  for  she,  of  course,  would 
not  be  there,  and,  aside  from  her  and  his  very 


THE    GREEN    FORK   DANCE 

best  book,  he  had  come  to  find  little  of  inter 
est  in  his  days.  His  romance  had  become  a 
serious  thing,  and  it  pained  him  the  way  this 
woman,  of  whom  he  had  seen  so  little,  held 
his  heart.  He  should  have  known  that  pres 
ence  is  secondary  in  the  growth  of  such  mat 
ters,  but  then  he  was  a  Lambkin.  He  rea 
soned  most  convincingly  to  himself  that  she 
would  not  be  at  the  dance.  Used  as  she  was 
to  more  "  polite  "  gaieties,  the  varied  pleas 
ures  of  city  life — not  always  more  intellect 
ual,  to  be  sure,  but  certainly  more  fashionable 
— the  rough  frivolities  of  a  cowboy  dance, 
miles  distant,  would  scarcely  appeal  to  her 
as  an  attraction.  Hence,  why  should  he  go? 
Not  because  he  was  in  love  with  Captain 
Kitty  did  he  ask  this — of  course  not.  He  had 
merely  found  a  certain  pleasure  in  her  society 
which  made  other  things  seem  barren  and 
empty.  This  dance,  for  example,  with  her 
absent,  would  be  a  mere  subterfuge.  So 
again,  why  should  he  go?  Well,  for  the  same 
reason,  perhaps,  that  a  man  sometimes  drinks 
to  excess — to  find  oblivion  from  his  woes,  to 
shed  his  mental  burdens  like  a  garment.  Al 
though  he  knew  (to  a  certainty!)  that  he  did 

135 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

not  love  her,  he  nevertheless  reflected  that  in 
Missouri  she  probably  had  a  score  or  more 
admirers,  all  distinguished  in  their  chosen 
walks,  men  of  worldly  power  and  success. 
The  thought  caused  him  to  smile  rather  pite- 
ously  at  the  important  figure  he  must  present 
to  her  eyes — a  casual  and  penniless  cowboy! 
Compared  to  men  of  fortune  and  power,  he 
was  merely  one  of  a  vast  number,  like  the  cat 
tle  on  the  plains.  Of  course  he  would  have 
never  indulged  in  such  self-abasement  had  he 
felt  that  he  had  done  his  best.  It  was  the 
consciousness  that  he  had  been  delinquent  in 
the  light  of  his  own  standards  that  hurt.  "  A 
man  with  talents  who  neglects  them  is  worse 
than  a  talentless  man,  for  he  is  trampling  on 
angels."  He  had  read  something  like  that 
recently  in  a  new  book,  and  it  had  smitten 
him  to  the  quick. 

As  the  Lambkin  dismounted  at  the  Colo 
nel's  house,  and  hitched  the  calico  pony 
among  the  earlier  equine  arrivals,  the  first 
dance  ended,  the  jubilant  fiddles  ceased,  and 
the  laughter  and  talk  of  perspiring  rioters 
flooded  the  night.  By  the  time  he  had  light 
ened  girth,  hung  his  spurs  on  his  saddle-horn, 

136 


THE   GREEN    FORK   DANCE 

and  foraged  some  hay  from  the  Colonel's 
store,  the  set  for  the  next  "  quadrille  "  was 
forming.  The  Lambkin  with  an  extra  hand 
kerchief  flicked  the  dust  from  his  boots,  felt 
the  studied  carelessness  of  his  tie,  and,  pass 
ing  into  the  hall,  dropped  his  hat  in  a  corner. 
The  master  of  ceremonies  was  bawling  "  Two 
more  couples !  "  when  he  met  the  Colonel's 
young  wife  at  the  far  end  of  the  hall.  To 
this  lady  he  made  his  most  flexible  bow,  and 
receiving  a  nod  of  understanding,  they  "  sa 
shayed  "  at  once  toward  the  middle  of  the 
ballroom. 

Instantly  cries  of  "  Let's  play  bear!" 
"Who'll  be  the  bear!"  rang  through  the 
room,  but  the  smiling  Lambkin  stood  un 
moved.  He  had  expected  this,  and  was  there 
fore  enabled  to  gossip  in  a  delighted  and 
absorbed  manner  with  his  partner  while  his 
facetious  comrades  shouted  themselves  hoarse. 
He,  of  course,  yearned  to  throttle  Jimsey,  but 
that  gentleman  was  protecting  himself  by 
staying  with  the  ladies,  and  besides  the  future 
would  provide  a  better  time. 

Suddenly  the  Lambkin's  feet  seemed 
frozen  to  the  floor.  The  last  couple  needed 

!0 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

had  come  forward,  and,  trailing  an  eye  in 
their  direction,  he  beheld  the  gallant  McCor- 
mick,  and  on  his  arm  Captain  Kitty,  who  had 
just  arrived.  The  fiddlers  striking  up  at  the 
instant  had  drawn  her  attention  toward  them, 
so  his  gaze  flew  quickly  to  another  quarter, 
and  he  thanked  his  stars  that  he  had  seen  her 
when  she  was  not  looking  his  way,  thus  gain 
ing  time  to  calm  himself.  Now  he  was  all  ease 
and  blithely  conversing  with  his  partner, 
while  his  drooping  eye  counted  the  skirts 
round  the  circle  to  his  left.  She  would  be 
the  fourth  he  would  swing! 

"  Balance  all!  "  bawled  the  prompter,  and 
the  whirl  began.  As  he  reached  and  swung 
her,  the  greeting  she  gave  him  was  deliciously 
cordial — everything  he  could  wish — and  as 
he  felt  her  warm  fingers  he  could  not  for  his 
life  prevent  a  flush  from  suffusing  him  to  the 
hair.  He  had  passed  her  in  a  breath,  how 
ever,  and  was  softly  cursing  himself,  though 
he  was  the  best-dressed  man  on  the  floor.  He 
"  spotted  "  her  uncle,  a  florid  but  agreeable 
looking  man  in  city  clothes,  standing  in  the 
doorway  with  the  Colonel. 

"Chase   and   swing!     Grand   right  and 

138 


THE    GREEN    FORK   DANCE 

left!  "  called  the  resonant  master  of  proceed 
ings. 

"  Did  you  see  Snuffles — I  mean  Boodler, 
as  you  came  in?  "  he  asked,  when  they  next 
circled  together.  Her  eyes  went  wide  with 
such  genuine  pleasure  that  he  was  consumed 
with  remorse  for  the  ruse  he  had  in  mind. 
But  before  he  could  speak  again  the  arm  of 
the  next  gallant  had  abducted  her. 

The  dance  concluded,  he  went  to  her,  and 
she  presented  him  in  the  friendliest  fashion 
to  her  uncle,  after  which  she  demanded  to  be 
taken  at  once  to  Boodler.  He  led  her  out 
into  the  moonlight,  through  the  yard  to  a  side 
gate,  and  on  out  to  the  farthermost  wagon, 
with  its  two  horses  haltered  to  the  wheels, 
munching  hay. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  kill  me,  ma'am,"  he 
said,  in  his  gentlest  drawl,  "  if  I  tell  you 
Boodler  is  not  here." 

"  Why,  you  said " 

"I  asked  if  you'd  seen  him  as  you  wentin." 

She  was  not  the  woman  who  could  fail 
to  relish  the  motive  for  his  guile,  but  she  had 
to  appear  displeased. 

"  You  came  some  distance  to  apologize." 
139 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  softly,  "  I  came  to 
give  and  receive  a  reprimand,  and  such  things 
are  not  for  the  whole  population  to  hear." 

"  You  came  to  give  one?  " 

"  Yes'm.  I  was  wonderin'  if  you  called 
this  ambition?  " 

She  remembered  her  upbraiding  banter, 
and  said  hastily: 

"  Let's  don't  talk  of  ambition  to-night. 
Spartacus  has  been  over  to  see  us." 

"Yes!  McCormick  did  tell  me  he  saw 
him  visitin'  at  your  place.  He's  some  bigger 
than  Cookies,  isn't  he?" 

"  Oh,  he's  a  monster.  It  can't  be  true  that 
General  Custer  whipped  him?  " 

He  smiled  at  the  remembrance  of  that 
lively  and  memorable  affray. 

"  Yes'm.  It's  terribly  hard  to  believe,  but 
it's  true  as  preachin'.  And  you'd  never  think 
it  of  the  general,  would  you?  " 

"  I'd  never  think  it  of  Spartacus.  I  guess  I 
won't  tell  Jimsey,  he'd  be  so  broken-hearted." 

"  Oh,  he  wouldn't  believe  you.  He  thinks 
the  world  of  Spartacus  since  the  day  he 
hauled  us  out  of  a  fix." 

"Oh,  then  that  is  true!"  she  cried, 
140 


THE    GREEN    FORK   DANCE 

quickly.    "  I  thought  maybe  that  was  just  a 
'  story.'  " 

"  Jimsey  been  tellin'  you  that?  Well,  it's 
quite  true." 

Then,  she  thought  to  herself,  Jimsey's 
climax  must  also  be  true. 

She  had  seated  herself  on  the  slanting 
wagon-tongue,  while  he  rested  his  right  foot 
among  the  spokes.  Thus  in  speaking  to  him 
she  was  obliged  to  look  up,  and  the  moonlight 
striking  full  upon  her,  he  caught  her  rare 
round  face  at  its  best. 

"Look  at  that  ring  around  the  moon!" 
she  cried,  suddenly,  with  unconscious  serious 
ness.  "  What  is  it  there  for?  " 

"  I  can't  say,"  he  drawled,  as  he  looked, 
"  unless  the  lady  up  there's  givin'  a  circus." 

He  was  all  levity  now,  for  even  if  he 
blushed  she  could  not  discern  it,  though  the 
moonlight  was  strong.  She  laughed  unre 
strainedly,  for  the  reason  that  she  could  not 
help  it. 

"  Why  do  you  think  there's  a  lady  there?  " 

"  Well,"  he  said,  deliberating,  "  I  don't 
know,  unless  it's  because  if  there  wasn't  a 
man  wouldn't  stay." 

141 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

He  was  so  much  at  ease  in  talking  to  her, 
without  arrogance,  and  his  wit  was  so  free 
from  the  labored  sort,  that  she  was  pleased 
with  him,  and  he  knew  it. 

"  I  scarcely  expected  you  here  to-night," 
he  said,  after  the  first  silence. 

"  Indeed,"  she  answered,  quietly.  "  Was 
that  why  you  came?  " 

He  was  caught  unawares  at  this,  but  liked 
it,  as  a  skilled  fencer  enjoys  a  touch  of  tem 
per  in  the  foeman's  blade. 

"  I  said  '  scarcely/  ma'am.  It  was  the 
hope  that  I'd  be  mistaken  that  brought  me." 

Felicitous  invention !  He  thought  to  him 
self  what  an  admirable  lie,  yet  it  worried  not 
his  conscience. 

"  Then,  too,"  he  went  on,  serenely,  "  we 
cattle  fellows  have  little  else  to  amuse  us. 
But  you  are  used  to  such  better  things.  I 
thought  maybe  a  cowboy  dance  would  be  too 
rough  or  unrefined  to  interest  you." 

"  Rough!  Unrefined!  "  she  exclaimed,  in 
sudden  resentment.  "  They  are  the  rarest 
and  best  people  in  the  world.  When  you 
see  one  of  them  you  see  a  man  as  he  is.  At  a 
society  *  function '  in  the  cities  it  is  hard  to 

142 


THE   GREEN    FORK   DANCE 

make  distinctions  in  men,  they  all  look  so  like 
automatons  in  their  dress  clothes,  wearing  the 
same  set  smile,  and  are  so  excessively  polite. 
They  torture  you  with  their  eternal  patron 
izing  airs,  and  think  they're  pleasing  you. 
And  the  women  are  no  better.  Unnatural 
and  miserable,  yet  they  smile — smile — smile 
at  anything  you  may  say,  and  whether  they 
hear  it  or  not,  so  that  if  a  sensible  speech  does 
come  to  the  tongue,  you  don't  feel  like  wast 
ing  it.  But  here  all  is  sincerity.  There  is  no 
4  put  on  '  here.  They  wear  their  true  feelings 
in  their  faces,  expressing  themselves  in  every 
action,  and  they  know  no  etiquette  that  comes 
not  from  the  heart.  They're  as  natural  and 
refreshing  as  the  rocks  and  trees — I  love  them 
all!" 

The  Lambkin  felt  a  flood  of  grateful 
feeling  come  over  him. 

"  Miss  Kitty,"  he  said,  warmly,  "  that  was 
a  right  noble  speech,  and  I'm  powerfully 
proud  to  hear  it."  Then,  suddenly,  in  his 
most  innocent  drawl: 

"  Could  you  ever  love  one  of  them  in  par- 
ticular?  " 

The  fiddles  were  in  high  glee,  and  the 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

important  bawl  of  the  prompter  came  regu 
larly  through  the  night.  From  time  to  time 
one  of  the  ponies  feeding  at  the  rear  of  the 
wagon  put  a  peremptory  hoof  to  the  ground, 
and  in  the  sleepy  hollow  beneath  the  trees 
the  insects  spun  their  drowsy  song.  As  this 
startling  query  came  to  her,  she  glanced  nar 
rowly  at  him,  but  he  was  looking  interestedly 
at  the  open  windows.  Did  he  refer  to  any 
one  of  the  general  lot,  or  to  some  one  already 
individualized  in  his  mind — perhaps  him 
self? 

"  If  you  mean,"  she  said,  finally,  and  with 
frankness,  "  the  untutored  ones,  unfortunate 
in  learning  and  breeding — I  could  not.  I 
love  them  as  a  class,  just  as  I  love  everything 
that  is  natural,  honest,  and  good,  but  there 
must  be  mental  equality  and  culture  for  the 
love  you  are  thinking  of.  But  if  you  mean 
those  of  them  who  have  both  culture  and 
learning,  as  well  as  character,  and  have 
chosen  this  life  not  because  unfitted  for  high 
er  things,  but  because,  perhaps,  it  was  the  best 
that  offered  at  one  time,  then — I  think  / 
could!  " 

He  was  still  looking  at  the  fleeting  figures 
144 


THE   GREEN    FORK   DANCE 

of  the  dancers.  The  capable  orchestra  never 
flagged,  and  through  the  open  windows  came 
the  shuffle  and  slide  of  the  jouncing  feet 

"Salute  your  ladies !     All  together  ! 

Ladies  opposite  the  same ; 
Hit  the  lumber  with  your  leather, 

Balance  all !  and  swing  your  dame  !" 

Something  in  his  kaleidoscopic  view  of 
the  whirling  couples  caused  him  to  start  sud 
denly  and  make  a  lightning  movement  of  his 
hand  to  his  side,  while  he  turned  with  averted 
face  from  her.  She  observed  a  momentary 
rigidness  in  his  figure,  and  instinctively  knew 
that  he  had  been  stirred  by  some  strong  emo 
tion,  but  it  was  perhaps  as  well  that  she  had 
not  seen  the  sudden  white  woe  of  his  face. 
He  turned  almost  instantly  back  to  her,  and 
at  that  moment  the  fiddles  ceased. 

"  I  believe  I  have  the  next  dance,"  he 
said,  and  his  voice  was  steady  and  assuring. 

They  went  into  the  house. 

Then,  his  dance  over,  the  Lambkin  did 
a  wild  thing.  Without  making  his  good-bys, 
and  seizing  an  opportune  moment,  he  stole 
like  a  hunted  person  from  the  house.  Mc- 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Cormick  and  Jimsey  were  in  the  path  be 
tween  the  steps  and  the  gate,  but  he  passed 
without  seeing  them,  and  an  instant  later,  be 
yond  the  yard,  buckled  on  his  spurs  and, 
mounting,  rode  the  calico  pony  madly 
through  the  night. 


146 


CHAPTER   X 

A  PREVIOUS  INCIDENT 

WHAT  did  he  see?  Not  the  moonstruck 
levels,  not  the  row  of  cottonwoods  by  the 
creek,  certainly  not  the  homeward  trail,  and 
it  was  well  that  Terrapin  knew  the  road. 
The  Lambkin  was  thinking  of  another  trail, 
which  wound,  in  his  memory,  alongside  a 
canon  which  led  past  an  assembly  of  squat 
cabins,  not  many  miles  from  the  Circle-B. 
The  denizens  of  the  camp  called  it  a  town — 
Whitewater  they  had  named  it,  and  he  had 
visited  there  frequently  during  his  first  year 
on  the  range.  He  remembered  that  the  big 
cabin,  known  as  "  the  Sable  Serpent,"  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  gulch,  had,  by  its  hospitable 
and  versatile  manners,  won  great  popularity 
among  the  inhabitants.  It  had  a  long  plank 
bar,  some  chairs,  and  a  stage  inside,  and  out 
side  a  sign,  flaming  red,  with  a  tall  bottle  in 
the  foreground  and  a  black  snake  coiled  above 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

it,  taperingly,  like  a  corkscrew.  And  the 
floor  of  this  place  was  not  always  rilled  with 
chairs,  but  regularly  each  night  the  room  was 
cleared  and  the  space  appropriated  by  hilari 
ous  men  and  women  who  swayed  riotously  to 
the  whine  of  a  wheezy  violin.  Often  in  pass 
ing  he  had  heard  the  slump  and  slide  of  their 
feet  and  caught  fleeting  views  of  their  figures 
swaggering  by  the  windows,  and  once  he  had 
glimpsed  the  profile  of  the  man  who  leaned 
his  back  to  the  wall  and  at  intervals  gave 
them  guiding  information.  Later,  being 
bolder,  it  had  occurred  to  him  one  night  to 
go  in,  and  he  went  in,  accompanied  by  Mc- 
Cormick,  who  was  acquainted,  and  so  made 
it  easy  for  him.  McCormick,  among  other 
ceremonies,  presented  him  to  the  ladies,  and 
this  he  did  in  royal  fashion,  as  if  each  were 
a  princess,  and  indeed  perhaps  they  were  in 
poor  McCormick's  eyes.  "  Violet,  the  Whip- 
poorwill,"  was  the  one  he  had  recommended 
to  Butternut,  who,  new  to  the  game,  learned 
to  regard  all  she  did  as  the  outgrowth  of  her 
admiration  for  him.  She  taught  him  the 
quadrille,  and  at  the  time  of  his  quarrel  with 
"  Jemmy,  the  Shuffler,"  she  had  been  on.  hand 

148 


A   PREVIOUS    INCIDENT 

to  care  for  his  shattered  wrist.  Which  was 
certainly  very  nice  of  her.  Not  every  woman, 
he  thought,  would  go  to  such  trouble  on  his 
account.  Accordingly,  he  grew  convinced 
that  she  was  of  finer  fabric  than  the  others, 
and  came  to  believe  himself  very  lucky. 
Eventually  he  confided  this  to  her,  and  she, 
amid  tearful  remorse  that  it  should  be  im 
possible  for  him  to  think  well  of  her,  gave 
him  various  woful  fragments  of  personal  his 
tory  which  had  never  before  been  told  to 
mortal  ear — never!  And  he  discovered  a  new 
name  for  her  conduct,  which  was  heroism. 
Finally  it  was  clear  to  his  mind  that  the 
world  was  bereft  of  all  poetry  save  that  which 
she  inspired,  and  so  began  his  worship  of  her. 
It  followed  naturally  that  he  should  ride  over 
to  Whitewater  every  Saturday  night,  with 
McCormick,  whom  he  told  about  Violet's 
past,  and  McCormick  was  too  generous  to 
hint  that  she  had  told  him  the  same  thing  so 
often  that  he  could  recite  it  offhand.  To 
Butternut  it  was  plain  that  nothing  save  the 
merciless  force  of  circumstance  had  brought 
the  Whippoorwill  to  her  present  station, 
and  how  could  she  have  prevented  that? 

149 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Accordingly,  he  listened  with  profound  sym 
pathy  to  her,  and  was  properly  thrilled  by 
her  resolutions  of  reform,  somehow  unmind 
ful  that  there  was  always  a  third  witness  to 
these  conversations,  and  that  was  a  long,  dark 
bottle  from  which  she  at  periods  drew  inspi 
ration,  and  for  which  he  paid. 

Then  on  a  careless  night  she  had  pre 
vailed  upon  him  to  the  extent  of  a  single 
glass,  whose  influence,  reenforced  by  her 
smiles,  sent  him  wandering  in  delightful 
ways,  with  a  weeping  intelligence  behind. 
She  had  really  fancied  him  then,  and  the 
steps  were  few  to  the  end  of  the  gulch  where 
lived  the  parson  of  this  glad  town.  So  when 
the  unmeant  words  found  his  lips  she  was 
ready,  and  thus  did  one  of  his  enchanted 
paths  betray  him,  and  lost  Intelligence  could 
only  weep  afresh  as  he  entered  the  temple  of 
destruction. 

Few  of  the  happenings  of  that  hour  had 
remained  clear  to  him  save  the  vital  and 
vivid  fact  that  he  had  been  decently  and 
properly  married. 

Then  he  had  received  a  terrible  blow. 
On  the  Saturday  following  he  had  ridden 

150 


A   PREVIOUS    INCIDENT 

not  unjoyously  to  the  Sable  Serpent,  hav 
ing  brought  her  a  buttercup  from  over  the 
divide,  and  found  her  in  the  exclusive  com 
pany  of  the  Shuffler,  to  whom  he  had  not 
heard  her  speak  since  the  quarrel.  And  not 
only  was  she  in  his  company,  but  it  was  plain 
that  she  was  having  a  delightful  time.  The 
Shuffler's  wit  must  be  something  delicious, 
for  when  he  spoke  she  smiled  most  radiantly 
and  drank  his  health.  And  the  Lambkin  dis 
covered  that,  on  his  approach,  her  hilarity, 
instead  of  softening,  became  uproarious.  He 
suddenly  found  himself  in  the  awkward  po 
sition  of  presenting  a  buttercup  to  a  bride 
who  was  laughing  at  him.  Then  his  folly 
grew  tenfold.  He  demanded  an  explanation, 
and  this  of  course  threw  her  into  convulsions. 
She  wriggled  through  a  prolonged  spasm  of 
mirth,  and  among  other  things  called  upon 
the  Shuffle1-  to  bear  her  out  in  the  opinion 
that  the  Lambkin  was  a  fool — which  the 
Shuffler  did  with  alacrity.  And  the  Lamb 
kin,  after  squeezing  the  buttercup  to  powder 
in  his  grasp  and  withdrawing  into  the  gulch, 
also  concurred  in  this  opinion. 

He  had   never  seen   her  since,   and   the 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

wheel  of  her  inclination  taking  her  early  be 
yond  his  hearing  had  spared  him  the  trouble 
of  turning  his  path. 

But  now  had  come  another,  a  girl  from 
Missouri,  whom  he  had  not  been  sure  that  he 
loved  until  to-night.  He  had  thought  it  not 
wrong  to  put  the  other  one  far  toward  the 
back  of  his  mind  while  he  stole  luxurious 
moments  in  this  new  and  wonderful  presence, 
until  the  delight  of  a  great  influence  came  to 
him.  Then,  in  the  same  breath  with  that 
awakening,  the  dancers,  through  Colonel 
Baldwin's  windows,  like  a  sliding  lantern  on 
his  vision,  had  become  the  dancers  of  the 
Sable  Serpent,  and  he  knew  that  because  he 
loved  her  he  was  lost. 

His  remembrance  of  that  night  after  the 
Shuffler  episode  had  never  terribly  distressed 
him  for  the  reason  that  there  had  come  until 
now  no  other  woman.  It  had  required  a  cer 
tain  condition  to  bring  his  folly  home  to  him, 
and  that  condition  was  arrived  to-night  and 
had  burnt  upon  his  mind  a  picture  of  that 
hour  in  all  its  garish  colors.  Twice,  as  he 
galloped,  he  lifted  his  voice  in  a  wild  cry  to 
the  night.  There,  in  truth,  had  he  played 

152 


A   PREVIOUS    INCIDENT 

the    fool  —  then    indeed    had    he    been    the 
Lambkin. 

Thus  the  gentle  Butternut  at  the  end  of 
his  twelve  miles  slunk  reelingly  into  his 
cabin,  and,  falling  prone  across  his  bunk, 
cried  out  his  heart  in  an  agony  of  despair  and 
shame. 


11  153 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

SINCE  the  day  of  her  ride  with  Butter 
nut  on  the  River  Road  certain  letters  of 
Captain  Kitty,  in  addition  to  those  she  sent 
her  uncle,  had  been  less  frequent.  She  had 
also  experienced  occasional  thoughtful  or  ab 
stracted  moods  which,  though  not  new  with 
her,  were  unduly  prolonged,  and  which  her 
sagacious  old  aunt,  Mrs.  Camden  Collett, 
coupling  them  with  the  irregularity  of  the 
letters  mentioned,  had  come  to  regard  with  a 
suspicion  not  unmixed  with  alarm. 

Mrs.  Collett  was  not  a  wise  woman,  but 
at  a  remote  period  had  maneuvered  into  mat 
rimony,  and  she  knew  enough  about  "  signs " 
to  understand  that  it  was  time  for  appre 
hension. 

"  It's  all  that  Jimsey's  doings,"  she  said, 
with  a  nervous  setting  together  of  her  little 
teeth. 

154 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

The  wily  foreman  and  Mrs.  Collett  had 
no  great  liking  for  each  other.  Jimsey  had 
accepted  her  as  an  institution  at  Twin  Bar 
because  she  was  Captain  Kitty's  aunt,  and 
Mrs.  Collett  tolerated  the  foreman  because 
he  was,  apparently,  a  necessity  at  the  ranch. 
This  astute  lady  hated  the  country  and  coun 
try  life,  but  the  city  she  loved — in  fact,  one 
dusty  brick  in  a  pavement  was  more  to  her 
than  all  the  sweep  and  run  of  the  rolling 
lands  about  Twin  Bar.  Having  no  money, 
she  was  dependent  upon  her  brother,  who, 
while  supplying  her  prudently,  thought  very 
properly  that  she  should  attach  herself  to  her 
niece  in  the  capacity  of  motherly  guide  and 
protector,  and  whatever  seemed  proper  to  a 
brother  with  a  bank  account  was  law  unto 
Mrs.  Collett,  for  she,  too,  had  the  instincts  of 
a  politician. 

From  the  time  she  had  joined  her  niece 
at  the  ranch  all  her  wiles  and  forces  had  been 
employed  toward  one  object — a  return  to  the 
city.  But  day  by  day  Catherine  seemed  to 
drift  farther  beyond  her  reach  into  the  hated, 
unintelligible  life  about  her,  and  to  poor,  puz 
zled  Mrs.  Collett  Foreman  Jimsey  was  a  sort 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

of  wicked  magician  at  the  gates  of  this  strange 
world  enticing  her  niece  to  the  ruin  which 
would  inevitably  come  with  her  marriage  to 
one  of  the  terrible  creatures  that  seemed  as 
natural  a  product  of  the  untamed  country  as 
the  wild  steer  and  the  prairie  grass.  Every 
word  that  Jimsey  uttered  about  Butternut 
turned  into  a  dagger  and  swung  over  her 
head;  every  time  the  cowboy  was  praised  in 
her  presence  she  knew  that  another  gray  hair 
started  in  her  temples.  A  marriage  like  that 
was  too  awful  to  contemplate.  It  could  not 
be.  She  was  mad  to  think  such  a  thing  pos 
sible  when  there  was  Dick  Thorne,  polished 
and  wealthy,  not  to  speak  of  all  the  others — 
dear  Richard,  who  owned  the  finest  house  on 
the  finest  street  in  Kansas  City,  and  was  bereft 
of  both  parents!  To  preside  in  that  house 
had  so  long  been  a  glittering  dream  of  Mrs. 
Collett's  that  the  prospect  of  so  worthy  an 
ambition  being  thwarted  struck  her  as  noth 
ing  less  than  appalling. 

On  the  second  morning  following  the 
dance  on  Green  Fork,  Mrs.  Collett  was  lin 
gering  in  the  dining-room,  her  brow  knit  in 
fine  wrinkles  over  something  Catherine  had 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

said  about  living  forever  in  such  a  wonderful 
country,  when  her  niece  suddenly  returned  to 
the  room. 

"  Uncle  tells  me,  Aunt  Bertha,  that  he 
asked  Dick  Thorne  to  pay  us  a  visit,  and  is 
expecting  him  to-day." 

"  Oh,  the  darling  fellow!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Collett,  with  a  joyous  move  to  em 
brace  her  niece.  "  Won't  it  be  lovely  to 
have  him?  Have  you  asked  Jimsey  to  send 
the  buggy?  " 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  it." 

"  Then  leave  it  to  me,  dear." 

The  delighted  woman  was  so  impatient  to 
triumph  over  Jimsey  that  she  did  not  wait  to 
summon  him,  but  went  at  once  to  his  quar 
ters,  where  she  found  the  foreman  at  a  late 
breakfast. 

"  Is  the  surrey  in  condition?  "  she  asked. 

"  Shines  like  a  lookin'-glass,  ma'am." 

"The  sorrel  trotters  in  the  stables?" 

"  Jest  kickin'  fer  air,  ma'am." 

"  Well,  I  want  you  to  drive  to  the  station 
this  afternoon  to  meet  Mr.  Thorne."  She 
made  a  pretended  move  to  go,  and  turned  to 
him  again.  "  I  suppose  I  had  better  tell  you 

157 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

that  Mr.  Thorne  is  a  very  important  visitor, 
and  I  expect  you  to  have  everything  in  the 
best  order.  He  is  much  interested  in  my 
niece,  and  I  am  pleased  to  know  that  she  re 
turns  his  interest." 

"  Mr.  Thorne,  ma'am?  "  said  Jimsey,  in 
gentlemanly  consternation. 

"  Yes.  I  don't  think  Miss  Cloud  will  go 
back  with  him  this  time,  but  she's  very  im 
pulsive,  and  I  am  prepared  for  anything." 

Poor  Jimsey  almost  gulped  his  cup  in  his 
effort  to  swallow  his  discomfiture  with  his 
coffee. 

"  I'll  give  him  some  news  for  Circle-B, 
anyway,"  mused  the  satisfied  lady,  as  she  left 
the  room,  believing  that  she  had  heard  the 
last  of  the  presumptuous  foreman's  insinua 
tions  regarding  the  odious  Butternut. 

An  hour  after  Jimsey's  depature  for  the 
station,  Catherine,  on  horseback,  set  out  in 
the  same  direction,  leading  a  second  horse 
that  bore  a  man's  saddle.  Yielding  to  a  sud 
den  impulse,  and  recalling  the  many  pleas 
ures  she  owed  to  Dick  Thorne  (they  had 
really  been  strong  friends  in  the  "  society " 
whirl),  she  had  decided  to  treat  him  to  a  ride 

158 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

and  show  him  some  of  the  country  this  very 
afternoon.  Aunt  Bertha  observed  her  de 
parture  with  a  smile  of  supreme  content. 
The  indications,  to  her,  were  that  things  were 
settled  at  last. 

Two  miles  from  the  station  Catherine  met 
Jimsey  with  his  traveler.  The  foreman  wore 
a  look  of  subdued  protest.  To  be  asked  to 
drive  to  the  station  instead  of  sending  a  hand 
was  itself  an  indignity,  but  to  be  forced  to 
drive  a  Mr.  Thorne  was  injury  unpardon 
able.  That  gentleman  was  not  only  un 
troubled,  but  profoundly  at  his  ease.  John 
Ramsgate's  invitation  to  spend  a  season  at 
Twin  Bar  had  come  to  him  like  the  announce 
ment  of  a  long-expected  victory.  He  re 
garded  it  as  a  sort  of  road  by  which  he  and 
Catherine  were  to  finally  reach  an  under 
standing.  True,  it  had  been  a  little  incon 
venient  for  him  to  leave  the  city  just  then, 
but  love  is  love,  and  his  fashionable  world 
had  showed  him  few  women  that  pleased  him 
from  so  many  points  of  view  as  Catherine. 
As  he  watched  her  advancing  he  congratu 
lated  himself,  finding  naught  but  assurance  in 
the  impatience  which  he  understood  had 

159 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

brought  her  thus  to  meet  him.  He  had  for 
gotten  how  amazingly  beautiful  she  was, 
though  he  did  not  like  to  admit  that  his 
memory  as  a  lover  could  be  so  inaccurate. 
She  drew  rein  and  waited,  and  looking  more 
closely  he  felt  that  there  was  something  new 
in  her  presence — something  hinting  of  the 
majestic  and  unapproachable.  It  had  long 
been  a  tormenting  question  with  him  whether 
she  looked  best  in  golf  or  in  riding-habit,  but 
to-day  the  point  was  settled. 

"  Heigh-o,  Kit,"  he  greeted,  with  the 
cheap  familiarity  of  fashion,  leaping  from 
the  surrey  and  going  to  her  side. 

"  Hello,  Dick,"  she  answered,  with  the 
same  meaningless  freedom,  but  withdrawing 
the  hand  he  was  inclined  to  hold  too  long. 
"  Here's  a  horse  for  you.  Jump  on." 

His  courtly  attitude  was  spoiled,  which 
was  not  pleasant.  Then,  a  ride  in  his  exces 
sively  neat  traveling  suit! 

"  You  don't  want  me  to  ride  with  you  in 
this  dress,  Kit?  Your  man  here  can  take  the 
horses  and  I'll  drive  you  in." 

"  Idiot,"  she  said,  a  little  impatiently, 
"  we  are  not  on  the  Boulevard.  Get  on." 

1 60 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

He  saw  from  her  face  that  further  hesi 
tancy  would  be  a  mistake,  so  leaped  into  the 
saddle,  and  they  rode  toward  the  river. 

Dick  Thorne,  man  of  wealth  and  society, 
was  no  bad  figure  on  a  horse,  and  because 
he  was  in  city  dress  was  certainly  not  to  his 
discredit,  but  to  Catherine  he  seemed  so  ill 
to  fit  the  wild  scenery  about  them  that  she 
could  not  restrain  an  amused  smile.  He 
caught  the  mirth  in  her  eye,  and,  attributing 
it  wholly  to  the  absence  of  his  riding  dress, 
laughed  with  her. 

"  I  call  this  taking  a  mean  advantage,"  he 
railed,  in  playful  scorn.  "  However,  as  long 
as  you  have  made  a  show  of  me,  I'm  glad  you 
are  enjoying  it." 

"  I  was  thinking  your  riding  clothes 
wouldn't  mend  matters  much,"  she  said. 

"  I  understand,"  he  laughed.  "  You  are 
so  used  to  seeing  nothing  but  cowboys  that 
I'd  look  like  a  freak,  even  in  my  best  dress. 
I  say,  Kit,  how  the  dickens  am  I  to  make 
love  to  you  on  horseback?  " 

"  Make  love!  For  Heaven's  sake,  don't 
attempt  anything  so  stupid."  She  recalled  a 
day,  along  the  River  Road,  when,  with  never 

161 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

a  word  of  love,  a  certain  man  had  thrilled 
her  to  the  soul. 

He  saw  that  she  was  in  deep  earnest,  and 
it  occurred  to  him  that  his  first  idea  about 
her  unapproachableness  had  been  no  mistake. 
He  thought  to  play  upon  her  vanity. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  thought,  Kit,  when 
I  caught  sight  of  you  on  your  horse?  "  Her 
eyes  were  wandering  restlessly  beyond  him 
toward  the  river  and  the  open  hills.  "  I 
thought  that  if  Queen  Elizabeth  had  had  the 
beauty  of  Scottish  Mary  she  would  have 
looked  like  you." 

"  Don't  be  silly,  Dick.  Why  don't  you 
look  at  those  mountains?" 

"  What  are  they  to  me  when  I  have  your 
face?" 

His  admiration  was  honest,  but  it  seemed 
to  burn  her  in  a  furnace  of  humiliation. 
She  was  longing  for  a  speech  appropriate  to 
the  time  and  place,  and  here  was  a  man  pay 
ing  worn-out  compliments  to  a  woman.  Her 
silent  lips  sent  him  trailing  for  another  ap 
proach. 

"  She  used  to  be  crazy  about  books,"  he 
said  to  himself,  and  ventured:  "  The  Shelley 

162 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

Club  wants  you  back,  Kit.  Say  there's  no 
genuine  spirit  left." 

"  Oh,  don't,"  she  pleaded,  remembering 
how  she  had  read  Alastor  in  a  brilliant  room 
to  a  dozen  mediocre  intellects,  and  then  dis 
sected  that  flower  made  of  a  poet's  heart  until 
the  empty  applause  had  made  her  shiver. 

"  So  you've  given  up  culture  for  na 
ture?  "  he  asked,  on  another  tack. 

"  They  are  the  same." 

"  May  I  tell  that  to  the  Club?  " 

"  No.  And  don't  remind  me  of  my  piti 
ful  attempts  to  be  intellectual.  There  lives 
a  man  over  there — on  that  ranch  to  the  east 
— who  can  sit  on  the  root  of  a  cottonwood 
and  look  up  at  the  leaves  and  read  more 
Shelley  than  you  or  I  will  ever  know." 

"  Indeed!"  said  Thorne,  receiving  his 
first  alarm.  "  You've  seen  him  do  it,  I  sup 
pose?" 

"  No.     I  hardly  know  him." 

"  Then  how  have  you  learned  of  his  ex 
traordinary — capacity?  " 

"  From  his  eyes." 

"Oh!"  He  took  his  second  alarm. 
"  Speaking  eyes,  I  presume?" 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

"  No,  silent  eyes.  The  things  in  them  are 
incommunicable." 

"  They  seem  to  have  informed  you  pretty 
well." 

"  About  smaller  things,  yes;  but  I'll  never 
get  to  the  depths  of  them." 

"  Upon  my  word!  " 

"  Upon  mine,  too,"  cried  Catherine, 
laughing  away  the  last  minute  which  had 
surprised  her  as  much  as  it  had  surprised 
Thorne. 

"Kit!"  he  exclaimed,  in  sudden  relief. 
"You  made  it  all  up!" 

"  I  believe  I  did,"  said  Catherine.  Then 
they  were  both  more  comfortable  than  at  any 
time  since  their  meeting.  Thorne  held  out 
his  hand,  and  she  took  it  frankly.  To  the 
man  it  meant  that  they  were  lovers,  to  the 
woman  it  meant  that  they  could  never  be 
lovers,  and  each  thought  the  other  under* 
stood. 

They  were  still  cantering  toward  the  river. 
The  deep  canon  of  the  Pecos  along  here  is 
impassable  for  more  than  a  hundred  miles, 
save  at  two  fords  about  three  miles  apart,  and 
they  were  headed  toward  the  lower  ford. 

164 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

On  every  hand  the  great  treeless  plains  rose 
wide  and  high  and  mountainous,  but  the  face 
of  Dick  Thorne  reflected  the  monotony  he 
found  in  the  landscape. 

"  I  say,  Kit,  when  are  you  coming  back 
to  the  city?  You  don't  call  this  living,  do 
you?" 

"  Well,  I  wasn't  particularly  thrilled  by 
it  at  first,  but  now  the  vastness  of  these  rolling 
plains  fascinates  and  delights  me." 

"  I  can  see  but  one  attraction  in  them." 

"  And  that?  " 

"  They'd  make  magnificent  golf-links!  " 

His  face  was  as  solemn  as  the  mountains, 
but  she  caught  the  twinkle  of  his  bold,  blue 
eye,  and  laughed  heartily. 

"  I'm  glad  your  true  nature  has  showed 
itself,  and  you  are  not  going  to  be  silly." 

"  That  one  of  your  prairie  animals?  " 

He  pointed  forward  to  a  mounted  figure 
on  the  plain,  brought  into  view  by  a  sudden 
curve  and  rise  in  the  road,  the  figure  of  a 
handsome  giant  in  a  ranchman's  suit,  so  per 
fectly  appropriate  that  it  might  have  been 
designed  by  a  genius  for  the  completion 
of  harmony  between  man  and  dress.  He 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

was  intently  scanning  the  plain  in  front  of 
him. 

"  Wouldn't  be  a  bad-looking  fellow  in  a 
decent  suit/7  continued  Thorne. 

"  It  goes  well  with  the  prairie  and  the 
sky,"  said  Catherine,  smiling  as  she  recog 
nized  McCormick. 

"  You  seem  to  know  him,"  said  Thorne. 
"  Is  he  the  one  with  the  eyes?  " 

"  Well,  he  has  eyes,  I  think  you'll  find," 
said  Catherine,  with  a  droop  of  her  own  that 
completed  the  lie,  for  her  remark  was  a 
guard-piece  hastily  thrown  up  as  her  sweep 
ing  glance  fell  on  Butternut,  who,  with  sev 
eral  companions,  waited  in  the  shadow  of  a 
hill.  "  Come  on  and  I'll  introduce  you." 

"Introduce !" 

His  surprise  died  in  a  gasp,  for  Catherine 
was  riding  to  McCormick,  and  the  introduc 
tion  followed  as  soon  as  Thorne  came  up. 
McCormick's  heart  had  thumped  down  to 
ward  his  boots  as  his  eye  fell  on  the  man  in 
"  city  "  clothes,  but  Catherine's  cordial  greet 
ing  restored  it  to  its  normal  position.  Thorne 
seemed  the  troubled  one  now,  for  the  cowboy 
proved  to  be  still  handsomer  at  close  view, 

1 66 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

and  his  eyes  were  a  deep  blue,  to  which  the 
lover's  suspicion  added  the  quality  of  dreami 
ness. 

"  Aren't  you  afraid  the  Cross-S  will  take 
you  up  for  trespassing,  Mr.  McCormick?  " 
said  Catherine.  "  I've  heard  that  the  men 
over  there  are  not  in  love  with  their  neigh 
bors.  They  own  all  the  land  down  to  the 
river,  don't  they?  " 

"  More,  too,  Miss  Kitty,"  said  the  giant 
with  a  courteous  sweep  of  his  sombrero. 
"  Since  the  Pecos  Cattle  Company  bought  the 
Cross-S  they've  got  holt  o'  the  hull  valley,  V 
they've  picked  the  country  for  the  meanest 
lot  o'  rascals  that  ever  camped  together.  Had 
to,  I  reckon,  fer  a  honest  man  wouldn't  work 
fer  the  skinny  ol'  company." 

Butternut  rode  up,  and  Catherine  re 
ceived  him  with  a  little  smile  and  bow.  The 
Lambkin's  object  in  advancing  was  to  stop 
McCormick's  talk  at  the  proper  place,  but 
nothing  could  stem  the  giant's  eagerness  to 
maintain  a  conversation  with  Captain  Kitty. 

"  I  hope  they  are  not  giving  you 
trouble?  "  she  said,  making  the  hope  a  ques 
tion. 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

"  Well,  not  us  so  much,"  replied  the 
giant,  in  spite  of  a  raised  lid  from  Butternut, 
"  but  they're  actin'  the  blamed  cuss  to  as 
decent  folks  as  ever  come  into  the  country. 
The  Berrys — five  brothers  they  are — bought 
the  Ogden  strip  that  begins  about  a  mile 
t'other  side  the  ford,  'n'  now  the  Cross-S  has 
bought  all  round  'em  'n'  is  shuttin'  'em  in 
from  all  the  roads.  The  Berrys  hev  offered 
to  sell,  but  the  stingy  oP  company  ca'culates 
to  run  'em  out  'n'  git  their  property  for 
nothinV 

"Why,  Mr.  McCormick!  We  must  do 
something  about  this.  What  an  outrage!  " 

"Yes'm.  That's  jest  it— a  outrage,  'n' 
outrages  are  punishable  by  pistol  or  hemp  in 
this  country — whichever  comes  handiest." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Catherine.  "  Don't  do 
anything  like  that!  The  law  will  protect 
these  poor  people." 

"  Yes,"  said  Butternut,  in  his  gentlest 
voice,  to  which  a  quiet  glitter  in  his  eye  gave 
singular  emphasis,  "  it  will  when  they're  all 
dead.  I'm  thinkin',  McCormick,  we'd  better 
move  on.  And  you,  Miss  Cloud,  had  better 
not  take  up  the  Pecos  road.  Some  o'  the 

168 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

Cross-S  delegates  are  hidin'  along  there,  and 
a  stray  bullet  is  frequently  more  dangerous 
than  a  bullet  well  aimed." 

She  fancied  an  instant  a  studied  distant- 
ness  in  his  tones,  but  attributed  it  wholly  to 
that  mental  tension  naturally  incident  to  a 
time  of  peril. 

"Mr.  Jones!"  she  cried,  "this  is  terri 
ble!  Have  you  sent  to  the  Twin  Bar  for 
help?" 

"  We  can't  allow  a  lady's  ranch  to  be 
troubled,  ma'am.  There's  no  makin'  sure 
where  this  will  end,  and  the  Twin  Bar  is 
practically  in  your  charge." 

"  You  see,  Miss  Kitty,"  said  McCormick, 
still  regarding  it  as  his  conversation,  "  I  heard 
this  mornin'  that  the  Berrys  was  hevin'  it 
lively,  with  the  Cross-S  after  'em  for  cuttin' 
wire  fences — what  I  jest  hoped  they'd  hev 
spunk  enough  to  do — so  I  lopes  over  with 
what  men  could  be  spared,  and  we've  been 
hevin'  things  purty  hot  all  the  evenin',  V  one 
o'  the  Berrys,  the  youngest,  is  layin'  over  there 
dead  now,  t'other  side  the  ford " 

"Mercies!"  gasped  Catherine.  "This 
must  stop  at  once!  " 

is  169 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

"  I'm  perfectly  willin',  miss;  but  as  we're 
sit'yated  at  present  it  cain't  stop.  We're 
sorter  caught  here  in  a  sack,  'n'  we've  got  to 
cut  out.  Ye  see  we  was  all  on  t'other  side 
the  river,  makin'  together  toward  the  upper 
ford,  'cept  the  youngest  Berry.  He  was 
scoutin'  down  to  the  south  o'  us,  'n'  got  too 
near  the  rascals,  V  they  hit  him  plumb.  We 
heard  the  shot,  'n'  come  tearin',  but  when  we 
got  to  the  trouble,  all  't  we  could  see  was 
three  o'  the  Cross-S  critters  makin'  over  the 
ford.  We  hit  after  'em,  'n'  was  so  rippin' 
mad  that  we  run  'em  two  miles  this  side, 
right  into  the  enemy's  country.  Then  we  see 
a  bunch  o'  the  devils  comin'  round  a  hill  a, 
mile  ahead  o'  us,  'n'  know'd  that  we  was 
trapped.  Bein'  so  many,  they'd  'a'  done  us 
damage,  'n'  we  ca'culate  to  git  out  whole  if 
we  kin." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  go  back  at  once?  " 
asked  Catherine. 

McCormick  began  to  stammer,  and  But 
ternut  took  up  the  discourse: 

"  Because  when  we  rushed  over  the  ford 
the  gang  we'd  been  scoutin'  for  at  the  upper 
ford  came  boltin'  down,  and  they're  retired 

170 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

in  the  gully  there  now,  waitin'  to  pepper  our 
return  track." 

"  Oh,  my  goodness !  " 

"  Now,  Miss  Cloud,  you  and  your  friend 
go  back  and  get  out  o'  this.  You'll  probably 
see  a  clump  o'  horsemen  about  two  miles 
down  the  road,  but  just  ride  by  and  say  noth- 
in'.  They'll  not  bother  you.  McCormick, 
we  must  cross  the  ford." 

"  You're  not  going  to  ride  in  there  and 
let  them  fire  on  you?  "  trembled  Catherine. 

"  Not  exactly,  ma'am,"  said  McCormick, 
hurrying  to  save  his  position  as  general  of  the 
maneuvers.  "  We're  goin'  to  make  a  run 
across  the  plain  to  the  upper  ford.  They's  a 
chaince  they've  left  no  men  up  there,  V  they 
can't  race  up  the  windin'  river  V  beat  us  in." 

"  But  if  they've  left  men  there?  " 

"  Then  we'll  hev  to  locate  'em,  that's  all. 
Butternut,  we'd  better  go  single  file." 

"Oh!"  cried  Catherine,  "so  they  can 
pick  you  off  one  at  a  time!  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  grinned  the  giant.  "  If  we 
ride  in  together  they'll  git  the  drop  on  the 
whole  of  us — jest  what  they're  layin'  for — 'n' 
we  won't  git  a  back  shot.  But  we  don't  expec' 

171 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

to  play  to  their  hand.  We'll  go  in  a  few  yards 
apart,  V  they'll  have  to  shoot  at  one  man  or 
keep  quiet;  then  we've  got  'em  spotted  'n'  kin 
fight  it  out." 

"  Who  will  ride  first?  "  asked  Catherine, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"Why,"  said  McCormick,  wonderingly, 
"  I  reckon  I'm  leadin'  the  party." 

"  And  I,"  said  Butternut,  quietly,  "  will 
go  second  if  you  will  ride  Terrapin,  Mc 
Cormick." 

"  Change  now,"  said  the  giant,  and  ac 
cordingly  they  did. 

Catherine's  wonderment  was  lost  in  the 
sudden  chill  which  she  felt  at  her  heart. 
Butternut  was  to  ride  second,  and  she  had 
said  he  was  brave  to  his  very  face. 

"  I'm  thinkin',"  pursued  McCormick,  as 
he  glanced  at  the  sun,  "  as  it's  such  a  short 
time  till  night,  we'd  better  wait.  There's  a 
good  moon,  but  our  chainces  '11  be  better,  'n' 
I  reckon  there's  re'lly  no  danger  of  'em  clos- 
in'  in  on  us  here  's  long  as  they've  got  the 
ford." 

"  We  can't  wait,  McCormick,"  said  But 
ternut,  impatiently.  "  Maybe  some  of  them 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

have  crossed  the  river  and  gone  to  the  Berry 
house,  and  there's  the  poor  old  woman " 

"What!  not  alone!"  cried  Catherine. 
"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  I  will  go  to  her 
at  once." 

Thorne,  who  had  been  politely  silent,  now 
became  sufficiently  animated  to  protest,  and 
McCormick  seconded  him.  Butternut  pre 
served  careful  silence. 

"  You  mustn't  think  of  it,  Miss  Kitty," 
said  the  giant.  "  It's  too  dangerous,  for  if 
we  don't  git  the  best  o'  them  in  the  skirm 
ish,  they'll  likely  finish  the  job  by  firm'  the 
house.  No,  you  jest  git  on  now,  and  I'll 
see  what  the  men  say  about  holdin'  off  till 
night." 

The  giant  rode  off  with  his  head  in  the  air, 
sorry  to  leave  Captain  Kitty,  but  glad  to  pose 
in  her  eyes  as  "  the  leader  of  the  party."  But 
ternut  ought  to  have  gone  too,  but  as  Cath 
erine  lingered  he  made  no  move. 

"  Mr.  Jones —  Oh,  I  did  not  introduce 
you  to  Mr.  Thorne.  You  must  get  the  men 
to  wait.  I'm  going  to  ride  home  as  fast  as 
I  can,  and  send  all  the  men  from  Twin  Bar 
to  the  upper  ford  by  the  north  road." 

173 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  Please  do  nothing,  Miss  Cloud.  Your 
uncle —  You  will  get  the  men  into  trouble." 

"  If  you  think  they  would  displease  my 
uncle  in  coming,  I  must  let  you  know  that 
Mr.  Ramsgate  is  not  that  kind  of  a  man. 
Moreover,  he  is  a  friend  of  Senator  Ardell's, 
and  if  there  is  no  law  to  protect  people  in 
the  condition  of  this  poor  family,  he  will 
make  one.  Mr.  Ardell  will  do  anything  for 
my  uncle." 

The  Lambkin  bowed  apologetically  as  he 
said: 

"  Miss  Cloud,  I  will  tell  you  what  you 
must  soon  learn.  Mr.  Ardell  controls  the 
cattle  company,  now  owning  the  Cross-S,  and 
these  men  are  acting  under  his  orders.  Jus 
tice  can  not  be  got  out  of  him,  because  it  isn't 
in  him." 

"  Mr.  Ardell  does  own  the  Cross-S, 
Kitty,"  said  Thorne,  who  saw  an  opportunity 
to  get  in  an  impressive  word,  "  and,"  turn 
ing  to  Butternut,  "  I  happen  to  know  that  he 
will  be  at  his  ranch  to-morrow.  My  uncle, 
Judge  Thorne,  knew  that  he  was  coming 
down,  and  asked  me  to  see  him  on  some  per 
sonal  business.  I  give  you  my  word  that 

174 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

he  will  be  persuaded  to  do  the  Berrys  jus 


tice." 


"  Thank  you,  Richard,"  said  Catherine, 
almost  proud  of  him. 

"  I  thank  you,  too,"  said  Butternut,  un 
consciously  adopting  the  polite  language  of 
Thorne;  "but  you  are  setting  yourself  an 
impossible  task." 

McCormick  now  returned  to  them,  fol 
lowed  by  the  Circle-B  men  and  the  Berrys. 

"  The  vote  is  to  wait,"  said  the  giant, 
simply. 

"  Mr.  Jones  seems  to  wish  no  help,"  said 
Catherine,  addressing  the  big  cowboy,  "  but 
I  will  send  you  our  men  as  quick  as  I 
can.  Meanwhile  I  hope  you  will  accept  Mr. 
Thome's  service." 

The  polite  face  of  Thorne  showed  that 
he  was  a  little  dazed  by  this  remark,  not  so 
much  because  he  was  lacking  in  courage, 
perhaps,  as  because  he  had  not  been  expect 
ing  it. 

"  We'll  be  glad  to  hev  him  among  us," 
said  McCormick,  with  a  smile  of  broad 
patronage  toward  the  man  from  the  city. 
But  if  Thorne  felt  any  apprehension  as  to 

175 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

entering  upon  such  a  style  of  warfare,  he 
was  wise  enough  to  hide  it  from  his  lady 
love. 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  join  you,  gentlemen," 
he  said  quickly,  "  if  you  will  oblige  me  with 
a  weapon." 

McCormick  doubted  if  he  meant  it,  but 
courteously  ordered  a  rigid  search  in  his  in 
terest,  which,  however — due,  perhaps,  to  an 
adroit  but  comprehensive  wink  from  the  cow 
boy — failed  to  develop  any  spare  arms.  The 
city  man,  to  their  minds,  looked  entirely  too 
incongruous  to  figure  seriously  in  this  mat 
ter.  Thorne,  therefore,  was  obliged  to  ride 
regretfully  away  with  Captain  Kitty. 

Down  the  road  they  espied  the  "  clump 
of  horsemen,"  but  rode  by  them  unchal 
lenged. 

"  My  plan,"  said  Thorne,  "  would  be  to 
fight  it  out  in  daylight." 

"  And  I  should  take  moonlight,"  said 
Catherine.  "  It  was  a  wise  idea,  I  think,  of 
Mr.  McCormick's." 

"  That's  because  you  like  him,"  he  said. 
"  Funny  how  you  gentle  creatures  always 
lean  to  these  lumberly  giants.  Now  the  slim 


THE  TWIN  BAR  HAS  A  VISITOR 

fellow  was  miles  ahead  of  him,  to  my  mind. 
He  had  grace." 

"Which  one?"  she  asked,  quickly,  while 
her  heart  seemed  touched  with  flame. 

"  Why,  the  one  you  called  Jones.  You 
didn't  seem  to  notice  him  until  he  made  you 
half  mad.  And  he  was  the  only  one  worth 
looking  at.  He's  as  trim  as  a  deer.  Put  him 
in  decent  clothes,  and  a  woman  might  well 
look  at  him — more  than  once,  too." 

"Rather  dull,  wasn't  he?"  she  asked, 
with  shrewd  indifference,  her  tone  making 
him  pursue  the  theme. 

"  Dull!  His  eye  cuts  like  a  brier!  Didn't 
you  get  the  flash  of  it  when  he  said  the  law 
will  protect  them  i  when  they're  all  dead'? 
(  When  they're  all  dead,'  "  he  repeated,  mock 
ing  the  Lambkin's  drawl.  "  He  quite  took 
me.  I'd  like  to  have  him  up  in  the  city,  and 
I  wouldn't  be  ashamed  of  him  either.  He 
would  fit  anywhere." 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  in  society's  draw 
ing-room?  " 

"  Well,  he  would  know  where  to  put  his 
feet,  I  imagine." 

"What  an  accomplishment!"  she  said, 
177 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

hating  Thorne  for  this  picture  of  her  "  prod 
uct  "  of  nature,  her  knight  of  the  plains, 
while  almost  loving  him  for  his  recognition 
of  Butternut's  peculiar  attractiveness. 

"  The  big  fellow,"  continued  Thorne, 
"  might  do  for  a  coachman." 

She  was  not  particularly  interested  in 
McCormick,  but  this  was  too  much  for  her 
to  pass  in  silence. 

"  Neither  money  nor  misfortune,  Rich 
ard,"  she  flashed,  "  can  ever  put  the  spirit  of 
a  flunkey  into  a  cowboy.  They  are  all  men!  " 

He  promptly  and  profusely  apologized. 

"  Well,  by  Jove,  Kit,  I  see  that  I've  got 
to  watch  my  tongue." 

She  readily  forgave  him.  For  had  he  not 
praised  Butternut?  But,  as  this  thought 
brought  the  Lambkin  again  to  her  mind,  for 
the  second  time  her  heart  seemed  suddenly 
chilled.  He  was  to  ride  second!  Some  women 
in  some  humors  would  rather  see  the  death  of 
the  man  than  the  death  of  their  ideal.  Her 
ideal  would  have  ridden  first. 


CHAPTER   XII 

CATHERINE  TAKES  THE  SADDLE 

WHEN  Jimsey  reached  home  he  took  Mr. 
Thome's  bag  from  the  surrey  with  due  out 
ward  respect,  for  Mrs.  Collett  was  watching 
from  an  upper  window,  but  when  he  depos 
ited  the  hated  property  in  the  room  which 
had  been  made  delightful  for  its  prospective 
occupant,  he  gave  it  a  kick  that  would  have 
endangered  any  breakable  contents.  Then 
he  sat  down  and  made  himself  as  miserable 
as  possible. 

"  It's  all  over  with  Lambkin,"  he  groaned, 
"  and  blame  me  if  I  kin  ever  look  in  his  face 
and  tell  him." 

His  musing  was  interrupted  by  Mrs. 
Collett. 

"  I  wish  to  make  sure  that  everything  is 
ready  in  the  dear  boy's  room.  He  is  so  fas 
tidious.  More  particular,  even,  than  Cath- 

179 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

erine,  I'm  afraid.  Poor,  thoughtless  child! 
I  hope  she  will  be  able  to  please  him." 

This  mental  picture  of  so  much  beauty 
and  sweetness  degraded  to  the  occupation  of 
pleasing  the  clay  figure  he  had  met  at  the 
station  was  too  much  for  Jimsey,  and  to  pre 
vent  an  explosion  he  hastened  to  his  quar 
ters,  where  he  nursed  it  out. 

About  dusk  John  Ramsgate  arrived  from 
Langtry,  a  progressive  town  some  thirty  miles 
south  of  Twin  Bar.  He  seemed  preoccupied 
with  business,  and  went  at  once  to  his  room, 
while  Mrs.  Collett  hurried  preparations  for 
dinner.  Orders  had  been  given  early  for  as 
elaborate  a  meal  as  the  ranch  could  provide, 
and  all  the  servants  knew  that  Mr.  Thorne 
was  a  very  important  visitor  indeed. 

That  gentleman  and  Catherine  rode  up  a 
few  minutes  after  Mr.  Ramsgate's  arrival. 
Mrs.  Collett  greeted  Thorne  with  the  cere 
monious  familiarity  of  a  new  relative. 

"  I  suppose  I  may,"  she  said,  planting  a 
measured  kiss  on  his  forehead  which  was  in 
tended  to  tell  him  that  she  knew  all.  But  if 
she  did  her  knowledge  was  considerably  more 
extensive  than  Thome's.  He  was  beginning 

1 80 


CATHERINE  TAKES   THE   SADDLE 

to  find  out  that  he  knew  nothing.  Catherine 
was  the  only  one  who  was  growing  in  knowl 
edge. 

"  Your  uncle  has  come,  my  dear,"  said 
Mrs.  Collett. 

"  Oh!  "  Catherine  turned  to  Thorne  with 
a  flourish.  "  Now  it  will  be  all  right!  " 

Mrs.  Collett,  thinking  the  exclamation 
referred  to  the  engagement,  felt  a  thrill  of 
delight  trickle  clear  to  her  toes. 

"  Here  he  is,"  called  the  girl,  on  her  way 
to  her  uncle's  room. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Ramsgate,  at  the  head 
of  the  stairs,  "  here  we  are." 

For  Catherine  was  already  up  the  stairs 
and  in  his  arms.  She  brought  him  down 
caressingly,  and  he  greeted  Thorne  with  a 
most  cordial  hand.  He  was  fond  of  Thorne, 
for  political  reasons,  the  young  man's  rela 
tionship  to  Judge  Thorne  being  something 
to  be  valued. 

"  My  dear  fellow!  Glad  to  see  you  here. 
Must  have  taken  a  strong  pull  to  get  you 
down  in  this  wilderness." 

"  Oh,  uncle,"  cried  Catherine,  unable  to 

wait  for  ceremony,  "  there's  trouble  at " 

181 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  Trouble,  my  dear?  Well,  we'll  take  it 
after  dinner.  You  must  be  ready  to  pick  a 
bone,  Richard." 

This  was  a  literal  fact;  Thorne  was  ready 
to  pick  a  bone.  The  man  of  golf  and  fashion 
had  been  so  full  of  dreams  of  Catherine  and 
conquest  that  he  had  failed  to  leave  the  train 
when  it  stopped  for  dinner,  and  his  fast  had 
combined  with  his  long  ride  to  give  his 
methodically  fed  stomach  the  cravings  of  a 
cannibal.  The  sudden  mention  of  dinner, 
therefore,  rather  upset  his  discretion,  and  he 
responded  with  a  palpable  eagerness  that  he 
was  quite  ready  to  dine. 

"  Brush  up,  then,  both  of  you,  and  we'll 
begin." 

Thorne  was  shown  to  his  room  and  Cath 
erine  went  to  hers,  her  heart  beating  hotly 
and  her  temples  singing.  He  could  think  of 
eating  when  nine  men  might  be  dying!  As 
for  her  uncle,  she  saw  that  he  was  in  his  most 
pompous  and  selfish  mood,  and  that  she 
would  really  gain  time  with  him  by  waiting 
until  he  was  comfortably  settled  at  his  din 
ner.  But  the  loss  of  a  minute  was  almost 
intolerable  to  her,  and  brought  her  impulsive 

182 


CATHERINE  TAKES  THE   SADDLE 

being  the  keenest  physical  as  well  as  mental 
suffering. 

"  I  hope,  sister,  that  you've  something  a 
man  can  really  eat,"  Mr.  Ramsgate  was  say 
ing  as  she  entered  the  dining-room.  Mrs. 
Collett,  knowing  the  dinner  was  a  triumph, 
smiled  with  beseeching  deprecation.  "  How 
can  they?  "  thought  Catherine.  "  But  they 
don't  know."  And  she  became  more  enraged 
with  Thorne,  who  did  know. 

"  I've  sent  for  my  foreman,"  said  Mr. 
Ramsgate.  "  I  can  take  his  report  now,  and 
you  won't  mind  a  busy  man,  Richard.  I 
haven't  many  more  nights  here,  and  I  am  not 
here  for  pleasure,  you  know.  By  the  way, 
anybody  know  anything  about  that  muss  at 
the  Cross-S?  Ardell  is  owner  there  now." 

"  Uncle,"  said  Catherine,  on  her  feet, 
"  that's  the  trouble.  You  must  send  help  at 
once — to  the  upper  ford — all  the  men " 

Jimsey  entered  unobserved  and  stood  re 
spectfully. 

"Tut!  You  don't  mean  to  say  there's  a 
fight  on?"  said  Mr.  Ramsgate,  with  a  cut 
into  the  roast  and  a  satisfied  sniff. 

"Oh,  yes,  yes!" 

183 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"Can't  be  any  danger.  Sit  down!  Sit 
down!  The  Cross-S  has  enough  men  to  take 
care  of  it  if  those  fool  farmers  are  so  stark 
mad  as  to  make  a  fight." 

"The  Cross-S!  It's  the  Cattle  Company 
that's  making  all  the  trouble!  You  don't  un 
derstand!  They've  shut  those  poor  people  in 
— cut  them  off  from  all  the  roads,  and  won't 
buy  their  property,  and  now  they  are  trying 
to  kill  them!" 

"  Serve  'em  right.  They've  been  cuttin' 
the  fences.  I  know  somethin'.  Come,  miss, 
eat  your  dinner.  Richard,  don't  let  this  take 
your  appetite.  Sit  down,  Catherine.  Don't 
show  yourself  a  girl  when  I've  been  makin' 
a  man  of  you.  Yes,  Richard,  she's  been  right 
handy  to  me  since  I  bought  these  diggin's." 

"  You  won't  send  any  help  to  the  Berrys?  " 

"  Not  by  Tom  Walker!  Eh,  Jimsey,  you 
hear  me?  If  any  man  wants  to  go,  let  him 
take  his  pay  and  his  grip-sack  with  him." 

"  And  you  won't  ask  Mr.  Ardell  to  buy 
their  property?  " 

"No!  What's  the  use  of  tryin'  to  look 
after  people  that  have  no  more  sense  than  to 
buy  a  little  strip  o7  land  that  can  be  fenced 
in?" 

184 


CATHERINE  TAKES   THE   SADDLE 

"  And  you  won't  get  a  law  passed  to  pro 
tect  people  in  such  cases?  " 

"  No!    Laws  are  not  made  for  fools!  " 

"  Then  you  are  not  a  law-maker,  but  a 
law-breaker,  a  murderer,  and  a  thief!" 

The  company  rose  to  its  several  feet. 
Catherine's  brown  eyes,  gleaming  with 
twelfth-century  fires,  radiated  light  that 
seemed  to  burn  the  whole  room.  John  Rams- 
gate  made  a  step  in  her  direction  as  if  he 
would  seize  and  shake  her,  but  he  dropped 
his  hand,  for  even  he  felt  the  magnificence 
of  her  anger. 

Mrs.  Collett  in  a  flash  saw  a  vision  of 
Catherine  disinherited  by  her  uncle  and  in 
turn  rejected  by  Richard,  and  herself  very 
far  away  from  the  finest  house  on  the  finest 
street  in  Kansas  City,  and  she  saved  the  situ 
ation  by  the  worst  nervous  attack  of  her  life. 
It  really  seemed  probable  for  a  few  moments 
that  she  .would  not  live. 

"Auntie,  dear  auntie!"  sobbed  Cath 
erine,  on  her  knees. 

"John,  John!  You  will  forgive  her — 
forgive  her!  "  Mrs.  Collett  finally  murmured. 

"  Of  course,  my  dear,  of  course.  Don't 
is  185 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

let  that  trouble  you.  Come,  Catherine,  kiss 
me,  girl,  and  tell  your  old  uncle  you  were  a 
little  fool." 

So  Catherine,  feeling  that  there  must  be 
something  about  it  all  which  she  could  not 
understand,  and  which  would  be  explained, 
kissed  him,  and  Mrs.  Collett  revived  to  such 
an  extent  that  the  dinner  proceeded.  Jimsey 
was  interviewed  and  dismissed.  During  the 
occupation  of  Mr.  Ramsgate  with  his  fore 
man  Mrs.  Collett  murmured  tentatively  to 
Richard,  whose  seat  was  next  hers: 

"  What  must  you  think  of  her?  " 

"  I  think  that  she  is  glorious,"  returned 
Richard,  who  had  eaten  expeditiously  and 
well.  "  Wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  a  gold 
mine,  by  Jove!  Did  you  ever  see  anything 
so  gorgeous?  Hard  on  the  senator,  though." 

"  Ah,  you  understand  her!  You  will  not 
mind  these  moods?" 

"  She  can  have  as  many  as  she  likes  if 
she'll  only  let  me  be  there  to  see." 

"  You  are  in  love,"  said  happy  Mrs.  Col 
lett,  patting  his  hand  under  the  table. 

In  the  large  sitting-room,  with  its  easy- 
chairs,  piano,  scattered  music  and  books,  con- 

186 


CATHERINE  TAKES   THE   SADDLE 

versation  ran  along  easily,  without  reference 
to  the  explosive  subject,  until  Mr.  Ramsgate 
thought  it  safe  and  timely  to  touch  upon  it 
for  the  last  time.  He  knew  there  must  always 
be  a  rounding-up  and  a  final  word  where  a 
woman  has  interested  herself  in  a  matter. 

"  My  captain  mustn't  be  worried,"  he 
said.  "  It's  all  a  bluff  with  the  Cross-S. 
They  don't  want  to  draw  blood.  Ardell  can't 
afford  to  have  a  big  stir  just  now.  He'll  call 
the  men  off.  Probably  he's  telegraphed  al 
ready.  Anyway,  I  know  he  don't  mean  blood 
with  politics  like  they  are.  So  you  be  easy 
and  just  keep  your  noddle  out  of  the  business. 
Worryin'  won't  bring  beauty-sleep,  will  it, 
Richard?" 

Thorne  airily  suggested  that  she  did  not 
need  to  concern  herself  about  that  sort  of 
sleep,  and  offered  to  ride  down  to  the  Berry 
place  the  next  day  and  bring  her  news  from 
the  spot.  At  which  Catherine  looked  at 
him  and  rippled  a  laugh  that  made  him 
uneasy. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  hear?  "  he  asked. 

"  No — not  to-morrow." 

"  That's  little  Kitty,"  laughed  her  uncle, 
187 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  just  as  she  was  when  a  baby.  Vixen  one 
minute  and  angel  the  next.  You  see,  Rich 
ard,  it's  all  over  now,  and  she's  just  as  sen 
sible  as  I  am.  By  gracious!"  he  finished 
suddenly,  jumping  up,  "  I  forgot  that  con 
founded  bag  of  papers.  Must  get  them  of! 
in  the  morning.  Sorry  I  can't  be  with  you 
this  evening,  but  guess  you  won't  miss  me. 
Good  night!  Good  night,  Bertha,  and  good 
night,  my  little  Kitty." 

As  he  went  out  Catherine  leaned  over  her 
aunt  and  whispered,  "  You  will  stay  with  me, 
auntie?" 

"  The  darling  child,"  thought  Mrs.  Col- 
lett,  "  who  could  ever  believe  her  to  be  so 
timid  with  all  that  fire  in  her?  " 

Catherine  was  just,  and  she  felt  that  she 
had  not  given  Richard  a  fair  chance.  She 
had  demanded  that  he  should  show  the  same 
spirit  on  his  arrival  that  had  grown  up  in 
her  after  months  of  breathing  in  that  magi 
cal  atmosphere.  He  had  not  had  a  fair 
trial,  and  she  would  be  kind  to  him — until 
he  got  away — and  through  him  to-night  she 
would  say  good-by  to  the  old  fashionable 
life,  much  of  which  had  been  dear  to  her.  So 

188 


CATHERINE  TAKES   THE   SADDLE 

she  played  to  him  and  sang  one  or  two  bal 
lads  that  he  asked  for,  and  all  with  such 
mystic  tenderness  and  hovering  manner  that 
Mrs.  Collett  was  quite  deceived,  and  Jimsey, 
coming  into  the  room  to  make  an  inquiry, 
caught  one  of  her  "  good-by  "  smiles  to  Rich 
ard  that  turned  him  cold  to  his  boots.  And 
she  was  thinking,  as  she  smiled,  "  They  may 
be  dying  now — nine  of  them — dying  now." 
Thorne  was  entranced.  He  had  never 
dreamed  that  she  could  be  so  dear,  so  sweet, 
or  that  his  love  could  be  so  strong.  Would 
her  aunt  never  go  away? 

Catherine  sang  again,  while  she  asked 
herself,  "  Are  they  going  across  the  ford  now? 
Is  McCormick  dead?  Is  the  second  man 
dead?  Is  the  man  Berry,  the  youngest  one, 
still  lying  on  the  plain?  Does  the  old  mother 
know?" 

She  closed  the  piano. 

"  No  more?  "  appealed  Thorne. 

"  No  more  to-night.     I — am  tired." 

"  But  you  will  stay?  "  he  implored,  for 
she  was  leaving  the  room. 

"  No,  no!  I — am  really  tired.  To-mor 
row!" 

189 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Voice  and  face  were  gone,  and  Dick 
Thorne  was  left  staring. 

"  Poor  child!  I  did  not  know  she  had 
so  much  feeling,"  said  Mrs.  Collett.  "  You 
have  stirred  her  to  her  inmost  self,  my  dear 
Richard." 

Before  ascending  the  stairs  Catherine 
went  into  the  dining-room,  and,  throwing 
open  a  window,  gazed  in  the  direction  where 
she  knew  the  river  lay.  Jimsey's  voice  came 
out  of  the  dark: 

"  Miss  Kitty,  tell  me  about  it." 

And  she  told  him  every  detail.  Jimsey 
at  once  disclosed  his  intention  of  riding  to 
the  ford. 

"  No,"  said  Catherine.  "  One  more 
would  not  help." 

"  I  want  to  go  to  Butternut,"  persisted 
Jimsey,  like  a  child. 

"Jimsey,"  she  said,  putting  the  question 
that  had  long  been  burning  in  her  heart, 
"  what  made  him  ask  McCormick  to  ride 
Terrapin  when  he  loves  him  so?  " 

"  I  reckon  he  wanted  him  where  he  was 
least  likely  to  git  hurt,"  said  the  foreman. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Jimsey?  " 
190 


CATHERINE  TAKES  THE   SADDLE 

"Why,  in  a  ambush  like  what  they'd 
form  at  the  river  the  first  man'll  stand  the 
best  chaince  o'  gittin'  through.  The  watch- 
ers'll  hold  their  fire  till  they're  shore  it  ain't 
a  bait  jest  to  locate  'em  and  allow  'em  to  be 
flanked  from  another  quarter,  and  by  the 
time  the  second  man's  in  sight  the  first  may 
be  purty  near  across.  It's  the  second  man 
that's  in  most  danger." 

Catherine,  faint  and  dizzy,  dragged  her 
heavy  feet  up  the  stairs.  She  seemed  very, 
very  tired.  In  her  room  she  dropped  to  the 
floor,  because  the  bed  was  on  the  other  side 
of  the  apartment,  and  that  was  many,  many 
miles  away.  She  was  a  girl  of  momentum. 
Consciously  or  unconsciously  she  swept  for 
ward  with  all  her  strong,  enthusiastic  being, 
and  when  dashed  back,  as  now,  she  lay  with 
her  wrecked  forces  like  a  drowning  thing 
under  rolling  waves.  Her  nature  was  of  the 
simplest  kind,  instead  of  the  most  complex, 
as  those  who  thought  they  knew  her  best  sup 
posed  it  to  be.  Right  was  right,  and  the  eye 
once  on  it  there  could  be  no  other  star.  All 
the  hesitations,  the  mincing,  picking  steps, 
the  byways  and  underways  of  caution,  pru- 

191 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

dence  and  policy,  were  but  things  to  laugh 
at  to  this  girl  of  moral  momentum  obeying 
in  veins  and  soul  the  law  that  in  the  physical 
world  sends  a  whirling  body  to  its  goal. 

After  an  hour  or  two  she  began  to  move 
a  little.  There  was  a  silent  house  about  her. 
A  horse  neighed  loudly  from  the  stables. 
She  leaped  to  her  feet  as  if  the  sound  were 
a  signal  for  which  she  had  waited.  While 
there  seemed  nothing  to  do  she  could  not 
move,  but  now  all  her  strength  rushed  back 
with  a  sudden  resolve  to  act.  She  let  herself 
noiselessly  out  of  the  house,  went  to  the 
stables,  and  saddled  her  pony.  There  was  a 
light  at  her  uncle's  window;  he  was  still  at 
his  bag  of  papers.  She  led  her  horse  gently 
out  of  hearing,  mounted,  and  sped  over  the 
plain  toward  the  Pecos. 


192 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE  UPPER  FORD 

THREE  miles  out  Catherine  struck  the 
road  that  led  to  the  upper  ford.  Ten  miles 
more  and  the  black  line  of  the  river  bluff 
stretched  before  her.  A  hundred  yards  from 
the  ford  she  halted  and  listened.  There  were 
no  sounds  that  might  be  made  by  horse  or 
man.  It  was  all  over,  she  told  herself.  It 
had  happened  while  she  was  playing  the 
piano  and  singing  ballads  to  Dick  Thorne. 

She  rode  on  toward  the  river,  reproach 
ing  herself  for  feeling  so  safe.  "  How  did 
he  feel?"  she  asked.  Soon  she  could  see 
through  the  cut,  down  which  the  road  sloped 
to  the  river,  and  catch  the  glimmer  of  the 
moon  on  the  red  water.  "  They  were  in 
there,"  she  said.  She  turned  her  horse  at  the 
entrance  to  the  cut,  and  rode  up  to  the  very 
edge  of  the  bluff,  from  which  point  she 
gazed  alternately  at  the  rolling  river,  bright 

193 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

under  the  stars,  and  the  vast  plains  that 
seemed  everywhere.  On  what  fragrant  seas 
the  dying  soul  might  drift  out  from  that 
place!  She  thought  of  the  oaths  that,  per 
haps,  had  mingled  with  the  breath  of  the 
river,  and  wondered  as  she  shuddered  if 
somehow  all  had  not  been  made  sweet  in 
death.  "  It'll  be  a  cold  layout  all  around,  I 
guess,  if  they're  in  thar,"  McCormick  had 
said. 

"  Oh,  the  selfishness  of  a  woman's  heart!  " 
said  Catherine.  "  While  I  thought  the  great 
est  danger  was  another's  I  could  stay  away, 
and  when  I  found  it  was — his — I  came  back." 

She  thought  of  the  gentle  lips  and  the 
smile  that  transformed  the  cowboy  of  the 
plains,  eighteen  hundred  and  ninety-three,  to 
a  Galahad  bending  with  divine  assurance 
over  beauty  in  distress,  while  the  forgotten 
moon  played  her  beams  on  a  vanished  world. 
With  most  of  us  it  is  but  a  step  from  reality 
to  romance.  With  Catherine  it  was  no  step 
at  all.  Each  could  be  the  other  interchange 
ably.  She  did  not  feel  lonely  or  strange. 
She  belonged  to  the  hour  and  the  place,  for 
love — the  love  that  now  she  was  proud  to 

194 


THE   UPPER   FORD 

acknowledge — had  brought  her,  and  where 
love  leads  is  woman's  way. 

She  returned  to  the  entrance  to  the  cut, 
and  pushed  on  to  where  the  river  lay,  broad 
and  tranquil.  She  wondered  if  there  was 
blood  in  it,  and  whose?  Her  horse  was 
splashing  the  water,  his  hoofs  striking  against 
the  rock  bed  of  the  ford.  The  stream  was 
shallow,  but  very  wide,  and  the  horse  moved 
slowrly  over  the  uneven  bottom.  Midway  she 
seemed  to  have  already  come  a  long  voyage, 
and  before  her  the  dark  opposite  bluff  seemed 
bending  to  the  shore  of  a  sea.  She  sat  stead 
ily,  but  fancied  she  was  swaying,  and  at  last 
on  the  opposite  bank  she  slipped  from  her 
horse  and  leaned  her  rocking  head  against 
his  shoulder  until  all  was  clear  again.  Then 
mounting,  she  rode  for  a  mile  over  the  lonely 
trail  to  the  top  of  a  gently  climbing  hill,  and 
looked  out  over  the  great  plains  again,  calm 
in  the  moonlight  peace. 

The  road  to  the  Berrys  was  clear.  She 
passed  the  Cross-S  line  without  trouble,  for 
the  cut  pieces  of  wire  fence  which  had  been 
stretched  across  the  road  were  trailing  on  the 
ground.  The  house  which  she  presently  saw 

'95 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

ahead  of  her  was  small  and  unpainted,  for  its 
owners  had  spent  most  of  their  money  for  the 
land  and  cattle,  intending  to  build  more  pre 
tentiously  when  profits  permitted. 

"What  will  they  think  of  me?"  Cath 
erine  asked  herself  as  she  slowly  neared  the 
house.  "  No  matter.  There  is  a  lonely  wom 
an  there  whose  boy — the  youngest  one — is 
dead.  I  am  going  to  her" 

No  light  was  seen  through  the  carefully 
blinded  windows,  but  when  Catherine  dis 
mounted  and  went  softly  to  the  door  she 
heard  voices  inside,  and  now  and  then  a  sob. 
A  haze  came  over  her.  What  was  she  there 
for?  Was  her  strongest  reason  to  be  with  the 
old  woman?  Away  with  the  lie!  It  was  to 
find  out  the  names  of  the  dead.  The  voices 
cleared  to  one  steady,  soothing  tone,  and  as 
she  recognized  it  she  almost  fainted  on  the 
steps. 

When  Butternut  saw  Catherine  ride  away 
with  Thorne  he  wondered,  and  all  through 
the  events  of  the  evening  he  continued  to 
wonder.  When  he  had  seen  her  ride  up  with 
a  man  who  was  patently  of  the  same  tribe  as 
herself,  young,  fairly  good-looking,  and  un- 

196 


THE    UPPER   FORD 

mistakably  her  lover,  he  had  swallowed  the 
truth  without  a  sign,  as  he  would  have  swal 
lowed  hot  coals  and  died  had  the  perform 
ance  been  an  inevitable  duty.  But  when  in 
the  course  of  their  talk  he  had  discovered 
that  there  was  no  soul  in  the  eye  of  the  man 
when  he  looked  at  her,  then  had  sorrow  in 
deed  possessed  him.  If  Kitty  Cloud  was  of 
a  tribe  with  this  man,  what  was  to  become 
of  the  heaven  he  had  built  where  she  shone 
the  sole  and  single  star?  It  was  at  his  feet, 
a  tawdry,  tinsel,  make-believe  glitter,  and 
there  was  only  black  void  above. 

"  But  she  offered  to  go  to  the  old  woman," 
he  said,  warming  his  dead  idol  in  a  glow  of 
love  instantly  put  out  by  the  recurring  pic 
ture  of  her  riding  away  with  Thorne.  "  She 
even  looked  mad  at  me,"  he  mused,  des 
perately,  sorrowing  for  the  world  that  might 
have  been  had  she  chosen  to  smile.  "  I  sup 
pose  they're  all  alike — all  the  young  ones. 
They  have  to  be  mothers,  like  mine  and  poor 
old  Mrs.  Berry,  and  love  their  children  and 
the  fathers  of  them  before  they  are  fit  to  be 
worshipped.  We  have  to  have  our  idols,  and 
when  we  can't  find  'em,  we  make  'em,  and 

197 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

fool  ourselves  into  thinkin'  God  had  the  big 
gest  hand  in  it,  and  sit  down  and  admire. 
Now,  if  anybody  had  told  me  God  didn't 
make  her,  I  would  have  sorrowed  for  his 
ignorance;  and  all  the  time  I  was  makin'  her 
myself  and  revelin'  in  my  handiwork."' 

McCormick  and  his  men  had  passed  the 
ford  without  a  shot  from  ambush  or  a  stir  to 
suggest  a  hidden  enemy,  and  proceeded  with 
out  molestation  to  bring  the  body  of  James 
Berry  home.  Then  the  giant  had  led  the 
men  in  hot  haste  to  lie  in  wait  at  the  lower 
ford  for  any  invaders  from  the  Cross-S,  while 
the  Lambkin  remained  with  Mrs.  Berry  in 
case  any  of  the  Cattle  Company's  men  should 
descend  from  the  upper  road  to  fire  the  house. 

All  the  while  Butternut  thought  he  was 
putting  Captain  Kitty — in  his  mind — where 
he  might  never  find  her,  and  now,  when  he 
fancied  the  task  about  complete,  he  heard  a 
light  knock  at  the  door. 

"Who  is  there?" 

"  Catherine  Cloud,"  came  faintly  from 
the  other  side,  and  he  threw  open  the  door 
to  his  instantly  resurrected  idol. 

"Bless  me,  Miss  Cloud,  you  here!"  he 
198 


THE   UPPER   FORD 

said,  drawing  her  to  Mrs.  Berry,  who  took 
the  trembling  hand  from  his.  "  This  is  Miss 
Cloud,  Mrs.  Berry,  who  has  come  to  you  be 
cause  she  knew  you  were  in  trouble.  She's 
an  angel." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Berry,  her  dim  old  eyes 
taking  light  from  Catherine's  young  ones, 
now  glowing  their  brightest,  "  a  good  woman, 
which  is  a  sight  more  useful  in  this  world 
than  angels,  I  reckon." 

She  clung  to  Catherine  with  a  convulsive 
comfort  which  showed  how  she  had  longed 
for  the  touch  of  one  of  her  sex. 

"  This  is  my  boy,  my  dear,"  she  said,  turn 
ing  to  the  body  of  her  son.  "  My  baby.  He 
is  still  purty,  you  see.  The  only  purty  one 
I  had,  though  they're  all  good  sons  enough, 
but  Jimmie  was  always  pettin'  me  an'  makin' 
up  for  my  lonesomeness  an'  the  ol'  friends  I 
left  back  in  Kentucky.  Yes,  I  reckon  he 
made  a  fool  of  his  ol'  mother,  an'  she  was 
proud  of  it.  Oh,  miss,"  she  said,  falling  on 
her  knees,  "  I  can  stand  it  while  he's  lookin' 
purty  like  this — he's  not  gone  yet;  but  what'll 
I  do  when  he  turns  all  dead  an'  they  take 
him  away  from  me?" 

199 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

For  answer  Catherine  rocked  the  sobbing 
mother  in  her  clasped  arms,  and  mingled  her 
tears  with  her  own,  while  she  refrained  from 
the  empty  word-comfort  which  turns  sorrow 
to  rebellion. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  the  old 
woman  at  last,  gently  releasing  herself,  and 
taking  the  chair  by  her  son's  body.  "  I'm 
just  worryin'  you,  you  two  young  people. 
'T  has  done  me  good,  though,  an'  you  won't 
mind.  Though  you're  so  young,  you  can 
understand  a  mother's  feelin's.  Some  women 
are  born  mothers,  I  say.  Things  may  go 
cross-ways,  an'  they  may  never  have  chick  nor 
child  o'  ,  their  own,  but  they've  got  more 
mother-feelin'  an'  understandin'  than  many 
a  woman  with  a  full  brood  an'  extrys.  An' 
you're  one  o'  them  women,  miss.  I  know'd 
it  when  you  looked  at  me  an'  looked  at  my 
boy.  Mr.  Jones  here,  he's  one  of  your  kind, 
too — like  a  woman  he's  been  to  me  this  night 
— but  I  see  you've  found  that  out  for  your 
selves."  She  paused  to  look  from  one  flushed 
face  to  the  other.  "  Well,  there's  happiness 
ahead  for  you,  for  there's  nothin'  in  this 
world  makes  the  heart  comfortable  like  find- 

200 


THE    UPPER    FORD 

in  our  own  kind.  High  an'  low,  it's  all  the 
same.  Why,  trouble — trouble  like  this — • 
would  have  a  sort  o'  sweetness  an'  greatness 
in  it  if  Berry  was  kneelin'  here  with  me,  be 
cause  we  found  each  other  out  to  the  bottom, 
an'  were  of  a  kind  all  through  'cept  in  the 
little  outside  ways  that  don't  really  count. 
You  don't  know  your  own  blessedness  yet, 
though  you  think  you  do ;  but  when  your  hairs 
are  white  like  mine,  an'  a  boy  o'  yours  lies 
like  this,  you'll  know,  if  you  look  into  each 
other's  eyes  then,  what  Mother  Berry  meant 
about  a  love  that  takes  sorrow  clean  out  o' 
the  world.  There's  mighty  little  o'  that  sort 
o'  love  in  the  world,  that's  true,  or  there 
wouldn't  be  so  much  weepin'  an'  wailin',  an' 
that's  why  you  ought  to  bless  God  night  an' 
day  for  lettin'  you  find  each  other  out." 

Catherine  was  now  kneeling  by  the  old 
woman's  chair,  her  head  on  her  breast.  But 
ternut  had  involuntarily  fallen  to  his  knees 
on  the  other  side  of  Mrs.  Berry,  who  reached 
gently  out  and  drew  him  to  her  until  the 
bright  brown  curls  touched  his  forehead  and 
completed  the  spell  that  deprived  him  of  his 
senses.  For  twenty  thousand  years  of  bliss  he 
14  201 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

dreamed,  then  heavy  steps  approached,  and, 
instantly  rational,  he  rose  and  opened  the 
door  to  the  four  Berrys,  who  entered  led  by 
the  eldest,  dark-whiskered  and  grim.  He 
put  a  big  arm  around  his  mother. 

"  No  more  danger,  little  woman.  It's  all 
right."  Turning  to  Butternut,  he  said,  "  I 
thank  you.  We'll  watch  now."  And,  in  a 
lower  tone,  "  The  cowards  hev  certainly 
holed  up.  We  kin  rest  till  to-morrow."  He 
looked  a  question  at  Catherine,  "  If  the  lady 
will  accept  a  bed " 

"  I  must  return  at  once,"  she  said.  "  My 
aunt  will  be  greatly  frightened  if  I  am 
missed.  But  I  will  come  back,  Mrs.  Berry." 

"  I  will  see  you  home,  of  course,"  said 
Butternut,  simply. 

He  took  Mrs.  Berry's  hand,  but  she 
dropped  it  and  clung  to  his  neck.  "  God 
bless  you,  my  boy,  for  your  comfort  to  an 
old  woman  this  night." 

He  left  the  room  a  little  ahead  of  Cath 
erine,  which  gave  him  an  instant  to  finally 
clear  his  senses,  and  when  she  came  out  she 
found  the  placid,  the  inscrutable  cowboy. 

"  Here's  your  hawss,  ma'am,  and  here's 
202 


THE   UPPER   FORD 

your  steppin'-block,"  he  said,  holding  his 
hand  for  her  foot. 

She  accepted  his  chivalrous  aid,  and 
started  her  horse  off  slowly.  Butternut  fum 
bled  with  his  saddle.  He  had  a  hard  game 
to  play  and  a  shaky  hand.  We  all  know  that 
we  can  get  through  any  sort  of  crisis  if  we 
are  braced  for  it,  but  when  it  comes  unex 
pectedly  we  sometimes  stagger  through  with 
our  surprised  forces  in  a  way  that  barely  gets 
us  off  with  credit.  That  was  what  the  Lamb 
kin  was  afraid  he  would  do  to-night,  as  he 
tried  to  steady  himself.  First  he  shook  off 
the  last  folds  of  the  dream  that  had  en 
wrapped  him  for  half  an  hour;  then  he 
told  himself  that  the  graceful  woman  riding 
ahead  was  Miss  Cloud,  who  was  engaged  to 
a  Mr.  Thorne  from  the  city,  and  lastly  he 
repeated  that  he  was  Charley  Jones,  the  mar 
ried  man.  By  neither  word  nor  sign  must  he 
show  his  love. 

"  Tell  me  about  the  ford,"  she  said,  as  he 
rode  alongside,  and  in  the  language  of  the 
plains  he  told  her  of  the  crossing,  which 
had  turned  out  to  be  without  hazard.  But 
through  his  careless  speech  and  manner  she 

203 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

detected  a  certain  restraint  which  gave  her  a 
strange  feeling  of  exultation.  He  was  too 
noble,  she  thought,  to  take  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  poor  Mrs.  Berry  had  given  him 
— too  noble,  perhaps,  to  ever  use  an  oppor 
tunity.  But  she  was  in  no  great  haste  in  her 
dream.  The  way  was  so  delightful — the  way 
to  the  perfect  understanding  that  she  knew 
would  come.  She  would  gather  fragrance 
from  every  flowering  minute,  and  she  was  so 
sure  of  him  that  she  laughed  inwardly  at  his 
lapse  into  deferential  cowboy  tones. 

After  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  silence  it  was 
a  great  relief  to  her  to  find  a  question  which 
need  not  appear  forced. 

"What  will  the  Berrys  do?"  she  asked. 

"  They'll  go  to  Oklahoma,  I  guess.  The 
papers,  you  know,  have  been  full  o'  the  open- 
in'  o'  the  Cherokee  Strip  on  the  sixteenth, 
and  they're  figurin'  on  *  makin'  the  ride.' ' 

"Making  the  ride?" 

"  Yes'm,  if  they  can  get  some  good 
hawses.  Everybody,  you  see,  will  have  to 
run  for  their  claims  from  the  border-line, 
and  the  best  man  will  mean  the  quickest 
hawss." 

204 


THE    UPPER    FORD 

He  thought  it  wiser  not  to  add  that  he, 
too,  expected  to  "  make  the  ride." 

"  But  what  will  the  Berrys  do  with  their 
place?" 

"  Oh,  that!  Mr.  Ardell  is  comin'  down 
to-morrow,  and  we'll  probably  persuade  him 
to  buy  it." 

Unconsciously  he  had  used  Dick  Thome's 
word,  but  with  what  a  different  meaning! 
She  caught  the  ominous  note  in  his  speech. 

"  How  will  you  do  it?  Won't  it  be  dan 
gerous?  " 

The  Lambkin's  voice  seemed  far  away  as 
he  replied: 

"  Not  unless  he's  braver  than  the  men  he 
employs." 

The  unclouding  moon  at  this  point  drew 
their  attention  to  the  landscape.  They  were 
rounding  the  low  mountain  overlooking  the 
ford,  and  before  them  lay  the  sleeping  val 
ley,  divided  in  half  by  the  winding  canon  of 
the  Pecos. 

"  Isn't  it  weird?"  said  Catherine,  almost 
under  her  breath.  "  But  I  love  it — the  great 
plains,  the  fragrance,  and  the  whispering 
water!" 

205 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

From  the  time  they  had  left  the  Berrys 
he  had  been  struggling  back  to  the  real 
world,  the  world  that  held  a  Dick  Thorne 
and  a  Whippoorwill,  and  now  to  save  him 
self  he  thought  constantly  of  the  hour  he  was 
married — how  he  had  stood  up,  the  single 
witness,  the  slow  words  of  the  preacher. 
Was  he  drunk  then?  Yes.  Not  alone  on  a 
thoughtless  glass,  but  on  the  charm  of  droop 
ing  black  eyes,  cheeks  like  a  spring  rose,  lips 
curved  to  enchant  and  seduce — drunk  with 
the  wine  of  blind  desire.  Yes,  he  was 
drunker  than  the  contents  of  any  demijohn 
ever  made  a  man  when  he  stood  up  and  swore 
to  love,  cherish,  and  honor  the  Whippoor 
will  of  the  Sable  Serpent — a  vow  he  might 
have  held  sacred,  even  in  the  face  of  the 
Shuffler  episode,  but  for  a  certain  utter  hope 
lessness  in  the  way  she  had  laughed.  And 
now  he  was  intoxicated  again.  He  lost  his 
hold  on  memory — his  anchor  was  gone — there 
was  nothing  but  the  present,  the  dreaming, 
silent  plains,  and  the  woman  by  his  side.  But 
the  next  instant  he  was  himself,  with  his 
battle  won.  He  laughed  lightly  as  they  rode 
toward  the  river,  then  he  told  her  a  legend, 

206 


THE   UPPER   FORD 

and  his  voice  was  as  smooth  as  the  flowing 
water. 

"  There's  a  funny  epitaph  over  there  on 
the  side  o'  the  mountain,"  he  smiled,  point 
ing  diagonally  across  the  river.  "  Man  bur 
ied  there  is  supposed  to  have  written  it  him 
self.  He  was  a  poor  man,  and  he  had  a  rich 
brother  whom  he  hated  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  he  was  rich.  And  when  the  brother 
died  it  made  him  mad  to  see  him  get  a  big 
monument  with  the  words  '  Erected  by  lovin' 
friends '  on  it.  And  just  before  his  turn 
came  he  said  to  his  old  wife,  '  Betsy,  John 
got  the  best  o'  me  in  this  life,  but  I'm  blamed 
if  he'll  git  the  biggest  monument.  Put  me 
at  the  foot  of  a  mountain,  and  write  on  it 
these  words,  "  Erected  by  the  Lord — This 
beats  John."  '  " 

Thus  lightly,  half-humorously,  he  en 
livened  her  journey,  while  the  hand  of  recol 
lection  wrought  misery  on  his  heart. 

"  You  left  quite  suddenly  at  the  dance," 
she  said  abruptly,  and  caught  him  unpre 
pared.  Or  was  he  ever  that?  An  instant  he 
seemed  staggered,  then: 

"  Suddenly!  "  he  laughed.  "  So  did  Fid- 
207 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

dlin'  Larry's  hawss!  Used  as  he  is  to  a  fiddle, 
smoke  me  if  he  didn't  take  a  fool  notion  to 
break  loose  and  hike  out  for  home,  and  you 
ought  to've  seen  Turtle  Mose  and  me  hoofin' 
it  after  him  like  a  pair  o'  jack-rabbits! 
Why,  that  confounded  hawss  was  worse'n  ten 
wild  Indians  and  was  plumb  to  Devil's  River 
before  we  got  him!  " 

Ghost  of  Munchausen!  Instead  of  re 
morse  it  brought  a  half-peace  to  his  mind 
as  he  saw  that  she  had  accepted  this  plausible 
and  unholy  lie. 

They  crossed  the  river,  and  after  what 
seemed  a  long  while  to  him  they  rounded 
the  foot  of  a  hill,  and  the  houses  of  her 
uncle's  ranch  were  at  hand. 

"  We  seem  to  be  here,"  he  said,  "  and 
there's  not  an  Indian  or  bear  in  sight.  So 
good  night!  " 

He  was  gone  in  an  instant,  and  she  heard 
his  gay  laugh  as  he  rode  away  through  the 
moonlight,  but  now  there  was  a  note  in  it — 
a  note  of  emptiness — that  chilled  her  soul. 


208 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE  SENATOR  MAKES  A  PURCHASE 

CATHERINE,  refreshed  by  three  hours' 
rest,  came  down  to  breakfast  blooming  with 
a  radiance  which  communicated  itself  to  the 
rest  of  the  party.  Thorne  viewed  her  trans 
ported,  Mrs.  Collett  chirped  and  nibbled 
and  smiled,  Mr.  Ramsgate  beamed  pater 
nally,  and  all  made  a  merry  meal.  Near  its 
close,  happily  for  good  appetites,  Jimsey 
came  in,  saying  that  a  passing  horseman  had 
brought  news  of  the  trouble  the  night  be 
fore,  and  that  he  presumed  they  would  like 
to  hear  how  it  came  out,  especially  Miss 
Kitty. 

"Oh,  I  don't  care,"  said  Catherine;  "I 
know  already." 

"O-ho!"  Mr.  Ramsgate  glared  sus- 
pectingly  over  his  cup,  while  Thorne  looked 
his  stupefaction. 

209 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  I  haven't  seen  the  man,"  continued 
Catherine,  "  but  I  can  tell  you  all  about  it. 
Nobody  was  hurt.  The  men  passed  over  the 
ford,  and  not  a  shot  was  fired." 

"  That's  so,"  mumbled  Jimsey. 

"  What's  the  girl  talking  about? "  puz 
zled  her  uncle.  "  None  of  your  second-sight 
visions  around  me! " 

"  It's  just  what  the  man  said,"  stammered 
Jimsey. 

"How  did  you  know,  Catherine? "  de 
manded  Mrs.  Collett. 

"  Mr.  Jones  told  me." 

Jimsey  leaned  against  the  wall. 

"  Mr. —  That  man!  When  did  you  see 
him?" 

"  Last  night — or,  rather,  early  this  morn 
ing." 

"  Catherine!    What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Oh,  I  went  to  the  Berry  house." 

"  And  that — Jones " 

"  Escorted  me  home." 

"  Bertha,"  said  Mr.  Ramsgate  huskily, 
"  don't  go  into  one  of  your  fool  fits  now. 
This  is  serious." 

There  was  heavy  silence.  Catherine  took 
210 


SENATOR    MAKES    A    PURCHASE 

her  last  bite  of  toast.  Jimsey  discreetly  fled. 
Thome's  usually  stolid  face  was  a  study.  She 
had  made  him  believe  it  was  that  dull,  lum 
bering  giant,  and  it  was — Jones!  Fragments 
of  his  own  praise  came  back  to  him — "  What 
an  eye !  What  grace  1  Would  fit  anywhere !  " 

"  Now,  Catherine/'  said  Mr.  Ramsgate, 
finally,  in  the  level  tones  of  a  man  holding 
a  pistol  that  he  intends  shall  not  miss  fire, 
"  who  is  this  Jones?  " 

"  A  young  man  who  works  at  the  Circle- 
B,"  said  Catherine,  gently,  preferring  that 
the  weapon  should  not  go  off  just  then. 
"  Richard  offered  to  go  for  me  this  morning, 
but  I  didn't  want  to  trouble  a  guest.  Be 
sides,  I  couldn't  wait." 

The  senator  roared: 

"A  farm-hand!   A  cow-puncher!   A " 

"Gentleman!"  cried  Catherine,  in  a 
white  blaze ;  then,  turning,  she  swept  through 
the  open  door  and  up  the  stairs  to  her  room, 
and  John  Ramsgate  knew  that  for  a  time  it 
would  be  useless  for  his  voice  to  follow  her. 

"  John,"  began  Mrs.  Coliett,  "  you  won't 
be  harsh-  — " 

"  My  dear  Bertha,  please  be  quiet.  The 
211 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

confounded  country  has  made  a  wild-cat  out 
of  her." 

Mr.  Ramsgate  rose  and  went  out  on  the 
porch  for  air,  Thorne  following  him.  While 
Richard  had  no  wish  to  appear  hasty,  he 
thought  it  a  good  time  to  make  his  visit  to 
Ardell's,  and  after  some  moments  of  respect 
ful  silence  mentioned  the  matter  to  his  host. 

"  That's  all  right,  Richard,"  waved  the 
senator,  blandly.  "  Sorry  to  have  involved 
you  in  another  family  row,  but  it  will  blow 
over  in  a  day  or  two,  and  we'll  be  glad  to 
welcome  you  back.  Want  to  try  a  horse? 
Then  get  into  your  riding-clothes.  Jimsey 
will  saddle  up  for  you  and  show  you  the 
road." 

A  few  hours  afterward  Richard,  on  a 
mettlesome  steed,  and  having  received  minute 
directions  from  the  Twin  Bar  foreman,  was 
proceeding  in  a  thoughtful  mood  toward  the 
Cross-S  ranch. 

Meanwhile  Butternut  had  not  slept,  but 
had  returned  to  the  Berry  place  by  daylight, 
for  there  was  much  to  do  before  the  after 
noon  train  would  drop  Senator  Ardell  at 
Comstock  station.  First  there  was  the  boy  to 

212 


SENATOR    MAKES    A    PURCHASE 

be  buried.  Then  Thomas  packed  up  a  few 
of  his  mother's  belongings  and  drove  with 
her  to  the  station.  In  the  meantime  Butter 
nut  and  the  other  brothers  drove  to  Lang- 
try,  the  nearest  banking  town,  visited  a  law 
yer,  and  made  an  inquiry  or  so  at  the  bank. 
That  done,  they  started  for  Comstock,  and  a 
few  miles  from  that  point  halted  on  a  road 
that  led  from  the  station  to  the  Cross-S  ranch. 
Perhaps  half  an  hour  they  had  waited,  when 
a  man  drove  up,  evidently  on  his  way  to 
meet  Mr.  Ardell. 

"  Coin'  for  the  senator,  I  suppose?  " 
"  Yep,"  said  the  man.    "  You  ain't  hye'rd 
the  whistle,  hev  you?    I'm  a  bit  late." 

"  And  you'll  be  later,  I'm  afraid,  my 
friend,"  said  Andrew  Berry,  as  he  and  his 
brothers  seized  the  man  and  transferred  him 
to  their  own  vehicle,  Butternut  taking  his 
place  in  the  buggy.  They  then  proceeded  to 
Comstock  by  a  roundabout  way,  while  the 
Lambkin  followed  the  road.  Within  a  mile 
or  two  of  the  station  he  saw,  grazing  at  a 
distance,  an  enormous,  beautifully  horned 
creature,  and  at  once  there  swept  through 
him  an  idea  which  not  only  pleased  his  pre- 
213 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

vailing  sense  of  humor,  but  promised  a  ready 
escape  from  the  embarrassment  which  might 
otherwise  follow  his  coming  transaction  with 
the  senator.  When  he  reached  the  station,  in 
line  with  this  plan,  he  was  busy  for  a  moment 
at  a  rear  wheel  of  the  buggy. 

The  west-bound  pulled  up  presently,  and 
from  it  stepped  forth  Mr.  Ardell.  He  looked 
about  impatiently  and  met  the  glance  of 
Butternut. 

"You  for  me?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Where's  the  trap?" 

"  Round  this  side,  sir,"  said  the  Lambkin, 
most  politely. 

"  Here,  you!    Take  the  bag." 

An  instant  Butternut  wondered  whether 
he  would  take  the  satchel  or  kick  it,  but  re 
membering  his  own  interest  in  the  contents, 
he  picked  it  up  and  placed  it  in  the  buggy. 
Ardell  jumped  in  and  the  Lambkin  took  the 
reins. 

"  I  drove  over  from  Langtry  when  I  was 
down  to  look  at  the  place." 

"You  don't  know  this  road,  then?"  said 
Butternut. 

214 


SENATOR    MAKES    A    PURCHASE 

"  No;  but  I  should  say  the  Cross-S  is  due 
north." 

"  Part  of  it — part  of  it,  sir,"  explained 
the  Lambkin.  "  You  see,  you've  added  a 
mighty  wide  and  long  and  ramblin'  stretch 
since  you  took  in  your  new  additions." 

The  cowboy  was  scanning  the  landscape, 
and  suddenly  seemed  satisfied.  He  turned  to 
the  senator  questioningly: 

"  I  can  cut  off  two  miles  by  spinnin'  across 
the  prairie  here,  sir,  and  comin'  out  at  the 
Forks.  Reckon  you  won't  mind  gettin'  a  lit 
tle  sooner  to  your  supper?  " 

"  Snakes,  no!  That  eating-house  at  Spof- 
ford  is  a  scandal  to  the  road."  And  as  But 
ternut  followed  the  "  short  cut "  the  senator 
settled  himself  with  satisfaction. 

"  That's  a  mighty  nice  little  place  o'  the 
Berrys,"  remarked  the  Lambkin,  after  a  due 
interval. 

This  brought  a  keen  look  from  Ardell, 
who  became  more  impressed  with  the  sagac 
ity  of  this  man's  face.  It  might  not  be  be 
neath  his  dignity  to  get  a  little  information 
from  such  a  source. 

215 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  I  hope  Dawson  is  settling  that  matter 
all  right." 

"  Well,  it's  been  pretty  quiet  since  your 
telegram  yesterday  stopped  the  shootin'.  No 
body  else  was  hurt,  and  they  buried  the  man 
this  mornin'." 

"  Eh?     Somebody  was  killed,  then?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  the  youngest  of  the  Berry 
boys." 

"  Stark  fools!  Why  don't  they  leave  the 
country  instead  of  caperin'  round  in  the  face 
of  fifty  or  sixty  guns?  " 

"  I  reckon  they  want  a  little  money  to 
leave  on,  Senator." 

"  They'll  get  none  from  me,"  said  Ardell, 
suddenly  vicious,  and  casting  a  guarding  eye 
on  the  black  bag,  a  look  which  made  the 
Lambkin's  heart  leap  with  exultation.  There 
was  no  doubt  now  in  his  mind  that  the  money 
was  there!  It  was  the  custom  of  the  ranch 
men  of  that  section  to  keep  money  on  deposit 
at  the  Langtry  bank  for  the  monthly  payment 
of  their  hands.  Butternut  had  reasoned  that 
Ardell  would  bring  with  him  not  only  suffi 
cient  funds  to  pay  off  his  men  for  the  pre- 
216 


SENATOR    MAKES    A    PURCHASE 

ceding  month,  but  a  surplus  to  be  deposited 
at  Langtry  for  future  convenience. 

"  It's  a  plumb  nice  strip  o'  land,"  said  the 
Lambkin,  softly,  with  a  furtive  eye  on  the 
plain  to  his  left.  "  I  thought  maybe  you'd 
conclude  to  take  it." 

"  Don't  want  it!  Let  them  sell  where 
they  can !  Not  a  cent  from  me —  Good  God ! 
What's  that  brute?" 

"  Lord,  where?"  exclaimed  Butternut,  in 
sympathetic  alarm. 

"  On  this  side,  man!  Where  are  you 
looking?  " 

Butternut  turned  and  looked  at  Spartacus 
as  if  it  were  the  first  time  he  had  seen  him 
that  afternoon. 

"  That's  the  king,  for  a  fact,"  he  said 
leisurely,  returning  the  gaze  which  the  bull 
was  directing  upon  them  at  a  distance  of  a 
quarter  of  a  mile. 

"  Never  saw  such  an  animal,"  breathed 
the  senator.  "  Must  be  a  cross  between  a 
buffalo  and  a  steer." 

"  No,  just  a  plain  bull,  but  as  fine  a  speci 
men   as   any  fancier  ever  clapped   eyes   on. 
Want  to  round  up  and  take  a  look?  " 
is  217 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"Isn't  he  dangerous?" 

"  Well,  folks  mostly  want  to  give  him  the 
whole  prairie;  but  there  isn't  a  bit  o'  danger 
in  him  if  you  treat  him  respectfully.  Best  to 
give  him  the  road  always,  and  it  might  not 
be  safe  to  meet  him  afoot  here  on  his  own 
ground.  But,  generally  speaking  he's  harm 
less." 

His  strategic  tone  of  assurance  was  not 
lost  on  Ardell. 

"  Look  here!  That  fellow  could  take  this 
trap  on  his  horns  if  he  was  a  mind  to." 

"  Yes — if  he  was  a  mind  to." 

"  Say,  cut  back  here  and  take  the  road." 

"  All  right,  sir." 

Butternut  made  a  very  sharp  turn;  a  hind 
wheel  flew  off,  and  Ardell  sprawled  outside 
the  buggy. 

"Thunderin'  Moses!  What's  hap 
pened?  " 

"  'Fraid  we've  lost  a  '  nut,'  sir,"  replied 
Butternut,  searching  the  ground  and  making 
sure  at  the  same  time  that  the  "  nut"  he  had 
carefully  removed  at  the  station  was  safe  in 
his  pocket. 

Ardell's  rage  was  a  wonder  to  see. 
218 


SENATOR    MAKES    A    PURCHASE 

"  What  in  almighty  hell  do  you  mean  by 
twisting  about  like  that?  "  he  cried,  dancing 
about  the  disabled  vehicle.  "  Can't  you 
drive?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Lambkin,  in  his  smooth 
est  voice,  "  I  can  drive,  and  do  a  few  other 
things.  You'd  better  keep  quiet.  I  don't 
mind  your  cuttin'  up,  but  you're  becomin' 
a  curiosity  to  the  bull,  and  his  attentions  just 
at  this  moment  might  not  be  agreeable.'' 

Ardell  turned  pale,  gave  a  wild  glance  at 
the  slowly  circling  and  advancing  bull,  and 
cursed  the  cowboy  in  a  fearful  tone. 

"  Just  stop  now,  Senator,  and  let's  get  to 
business.  This  accident  affords  me  an  op 
portunity,  and  I  calculate  to  make  use  of  it. 
Look  at  this  paper,  if  you  please." 

He  took  the  document,  prepared  by  the 
Langtry  lawyer,  from  the  bosom  of  his  shirt. 

"  A  clean  deed  to  the  Berry  property. 
You'll  find  it  all  right.  What  you've  got  to 
do,  and  do  quick,  is  to  take  ten  thousand 
dollars  from  that  bag  and  hand  it  over  for 
this  deed." 

"I  see,  you  d d  scoundrel!     This  is 

your  plot,  is  it?  " 

219 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"Yes,  it's  my  plot!" 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  That  isn't  the  question.  I'm  not  one  of 
your  men — that's  enough." 

"You  idiot!  Do  you  suppose  I  carry 
money  about  with  me  so  men  like  you  can 
help  themselves?  " 

"  I  know  you've  got  considerably  more 
than  I  want  right  here  in  this  satchel.  Will 
you  open  it?  " 

"Give  it  here!"  shouted  Ardell,  snatch 
ing  his  property.  "What  are  you  doing 
now?  "  he  roared,  beginning  to  understand 
Butternut's  movements  about  the  horse. 

"  Why,"  said  the  Lambkin,  his  eye  on  the 
task  of  unhitching,  "  as  long  as  you  won't 
trade,  I'm  just  goin'  to  ride  away.  You  don't 
suppose  I  want  to  stay  here  all  day  with  an 
animal  like  that  for  company?  "  There  was 
great  alarm  in  his  face. 

Ardell,  who  was  unarmed,  looked  calcu- 
latively  at  the  cowboy,  whose  suppleness  and 
strength  was  revealed  in  every  rounded  limb. 
No,  he  could  not  afford  to  make  it  a  physical 
matter.  Besides,  there  dangled  at  the  Lamb 
kin's  hip  a  weapon  at  least  a  foot  long. 

220 


SENATOR    MAKES    A    PURCHASE 

"  I'll  give  you  five  thousand  for  the  land 
if  you'll  let  me  on  that  horse!  " 

"  Couldn't  think  of  it,  sir;  it's  worth  fif 
teen,"  said  Butternut,  with  another  glance 
toward  Spartacus,  who  in  his  capable  fashion 
was  pawing  up  the  earth  a  hundred  yards  dis 
tant.  "  By  George!  He  is  comin'!  Good-by, 
Senator!" 

"  Man  alive,  I'll  be  torn  to  pieces!" 

"  Maybe  so.  That's  your  business.  If 
you  care  to  trade,  I'll  give  you  the  hawss  and 
take  my  chances.  You  can  make  the  thicket 
yonder."  He  pointed  to  a  tangle  of  mesquit 
bushes  at  a  low  point  in  the  valley.  "  It's 
pretty  full  o'  briers,  but  they'll  scarcely 
scratch  like  the  king's  horns." 

Ardell  began  to  dance  about  and  utter 
oaths  that  ought  to  have  shriveled  the  prairie 
grass.  The  Lambkin  suddenly  covered  him 
with  the  ivory-handled  Colt. 

"  If  you  think  I'm  afraid  to  shoot,  Sena 
tor,"  he  said  smoothly,  but  with  a  steel  in 
his  eye  that  to  Ardell  was  colder  than  the 
chill  of  death,  "  you're  takin'  a  long  chance. 
I  consider  you  responsible  for  the  murder 
of  Jim  Berry — it  is  known  that  your  men 

221 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

were  acting  under  your  orders — and  IVe  no 
Christian  objection  to  helpin'  the  law  to  do 
its  duty,  sir,  especially  when  it's  inclined  to 
neglect  it.  The  bull  will  be  here  in  two  min 
utes;  I'll  give  you  one  to  make  the  trade  and 
take  the  hawss !  " 

Ardell  turned  white  as  he  looked  at  the 
cowboy,  green  as  he  looked  at  the  surely 
approaching  bull,  then,  opening  the  bag, 
handed  Butternut  a  package  of  bills  labeled 
"$io,ooo"  in  the  manner  of  banks,  and  sprang 
upon  the  horse,  using  the  "  tug  "  as  a  stirrup. 

"  You'll  be  hung  in  a  month!  "  he  roared. 

The  Lambkin  handed  him  the  deed,  but 
kept  his  hold  on  the  bit. 

"  Oh,  no,  Senator;  I'm  sure  you'll  con 
clude  to  keep  this  matter  quiet.  You  know, 
in  politics  a  man  can't  afford  to  figure  ridicu 
lous — it's  dead  ruin — and  this  scene  might 
strike  some  as  a  bit  humorous.  A  senator 
squattin'  in  the  chaparral,  with  a  mad-eyed 
bull  switchin'  his  tail  forty  yards  off, 
and " 

"  Let  go,  you  scoundrel!  " 

"Wait  a  minute,  Senator;  you  still  have 
a  little  time,  and  I  wanted  to  say  that  if 

222 


SENATOR    MAKES    A    PURCHASE 

you're  thinkin'  of  givin'  me  trouble  for  this, 
you'd  better  go  lightly.  There's  a  man  named 
Rockwell  runnin'  a  paper  in  St.  Joe  who 
made  it  hot  for  you  once  and  is  achin'  to  do 
it  again.  He'd  give  a  stack  o'  money  to  know 
of  this  little  incident;  but  I  promise  not  to 
blow  on  you  as  long  as  you're  not  trouble 
some.  But  there's  a  stronger  reason  why  you 
should  keep  still,"  concluded  the  Lambkin, 
and  again  that  steel  in  his  eye  which  fas 
cinated  Ardell ;  "  you  won't  live  long  if  you 
don't!" 

"  Let  go,  let  go!"  screamed  Ardell. 
"The  brute's  coming!" 

"The  thicket,  man,  the  thicket!"  called 
the  cowboy,  releasing  his  hold,  and  the  sena 
tor  sped  toward  the  brush-tangle,  his  coat- 
tails  and  bag  flapping  the  air  wildly.  Aban 
doning  the  horse  at  the  edge  of  the  chaparral, 
he  vanished  in  the  brush,  while  Spartacus, 
who  had  probably  meant  no  harm,  being 
more  curious  than  displeased,  approached 
leisurely  and,  standing  at  a  distance,  directed 
an  inquiring  gaze  upon  the  thicket. 

The  Lambkin  politely  doffed  his  som 
brero  to  the  bull. 

223 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  Another  royal  turn  youVe  done  me. 
You're  a  gentleman,  sir." 

From  the  depths  of  the  thicket  came  the 
sounds  of  a  man  who  seemed  to  be  swearing 
the  bark  off  the  bushes. 

Butternut  strode  leisurely  to  the  station, 
where  he  found  the  Berrys  waiting  with  the 
Cross-S  man,  who  stood  meek  and  subservi 
ent.  The  Lambkin  gave  him  the  missing 
"  nut,"  with  full  directions  how  to  find  the 
senator. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  east-bound 
pulled  out  with  Butternut,  the  Berrys,  and 
the  ten  thousand  dollars. 

"  He'll  telegraph  and  stop  us  at  Spof- 
ford,"  said  Thomas  Berry. 

"  Scarcely,"  said  the  Lambkin,  as  he  sent 
a  calm  eye  over  the  galloping  landscape. 
"  He's  whipped,  and  knows  it." 

The  future  proved  Butternut's  conclusion 
correct.  Senator  Ardell  not  only  kept  quiet 
about  the  afternoon  transaction,  but  his  man 
received  a  special  offering  from  the  black 
bag  to  do  the  same.  The  prudent  politician 
had  decided  to  buy  the  Berry  place. 


224 


CHAPTER   XV 

"  NEVER  A  WORD  OF  LOVE!  " 

DICK  THORNE  was  not  specially  wise, 
but  he  understood  from  the  signs  which  had 
recently  ruffled  his  horizon  that  if  he  desired 
to  progress  in  his  suit  it  was  time  for  him  to 
make  a  move,  and  that  a  telling  step  in  the 
right  direction  would  be  the  early  fulfilment 
of  his  promise  to  Catherine  to  influence 
Senator  Ardell  to  proper  behavior.  He  was 
keenly  disappointed,  therefore,  on  broaching 
the  subject  that  night  at  the  Cross-S,  to  have 
the  senator  reply  that  he  had  already  met  an 
agent  of  the  Berrys  at  the  station  and  had 
promised  to  negotiate.  Everything  would  be 
settled  the  next  day  at  Langtry. 

"  I  should  have  advised  it,  sir,"  said 
Thorne,  "  were  I  old  enough  to  speak  to  a 
man  of  your  judgment.  If  I  can  attend  to 
the  matter  at  Langtry " 

"  Not  at  all — that  is,  thank  you,  but  every- 
225 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

thing's  about  settled,  and  there'll  be  little  to 
do.  How's  old  Ramsgate?  Down  here  just 
now,  I  believe."  Ardell,  being  ten  years  Mr. 
Ramsgate's  senior,  always  alluded  to  him  as 
old.  "  You  and  the  girl  have  fixed  things  up, 
I  hope.  She's  worth  the  trouble,  my  boy. 
Saw  her  at  a  ball  once  in  St.  Joe,  and,  by 
George!  the  rest  of  the  women  winked  out 
like  candles  in  a  sixty-volt  light.  Blest  if  she 
didn't  make  me  wish  I  was  twenty-two  instead 
of  fifty-two.  I'd  have  given  you  young  squir 
rels  a  race." 

"  Fifty-two?  "  Thorne  mildly  interjected 
his  surprise,  knowing  Ardell  to  be  sixty-five. 
"  No,  no,  Senator." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  young  chap — fifty-two — 
every  day  of  it!  Well,  when  is  it  coming  off? 
You'll  let  an  old  fellow  into  the  fun,  won't 
you?" 

Thorne  flushed  as  he  said: 

"  There's  a  little  hitch  at  present,  Senator, 
but  I  think  the  weather  will  clear." 

He  had  no  idea  of  abandoning  his  suit. 
Never  had  Catherine  seemed  so  beautiful  and 
so  necessary  to  him.  Her  interest  in  this  man 
Jones  was  surely  nothing  more  than  an  idle 

226 


"NEVER   A   WORD    OF   LOVE!" 

inclination.  An  early  day  would  find  his 
prospects  unclouded. 

Over  at  Twin  Bar  matters  had  about  set 
tled  to  a  state  of  paralytic  comfort.  Mr. 
Ramsgate  had  despatched  messengers  cancel 
ing  a  few  engagements,  while  he  made  some 
inquiries.  He  was  by  no  means  as  near  a 
state  of  collapse  as  his  ambitious  sister,  and 
learning  that  Butternut  was  a  man  of  edu 
cation,  had  told  Aunt  Bertha  firmly  that, 
while  he  was  a  politician  to  the  core,  he'd  be 
tarred  and  feathered  if  he'd  make  a  political 
matter  of  his  niece's  love  affairs,  and  that 
"  By  gad,  Bertha,  so  long  as  he's  got  character, 

she  can  marry  whoever  she  d d  pleases!  " 

Still  he  was  hopeful  that  she  would  prefer 
Thorne,  while  Mrs.  Collett,  pathetically  help 
less,  could  only  look  on  and  wait  for  the 
heavens  to  open  and  cast  a  random  bolt  in  her 
favor.  As  for  Catherine,  she  roamed  in  a 
world  of  dream  so  entirely  and  unmistakably 
happy  that  even  Jimsey  began  to  have  his 
doubts  and  wondered  if  Butternut  was  "  wu'th 
all  that  now."  He  would  have  rushed  over 
to  Circle-B  to  congratulate  his  friend,  but 
now  that  the  Lambkin's  road  seemed  fairly 

227 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

clear  he  was  a  little  shy  about  treading  holy 
ground. 

In  the  evening,  a  few  weeks  later,  Cath 
erine  was  riding  home  from  the  post-office 
when  she  was  overtaken  by  a  gentleman  on 
horseback. 

"  A  wonderful  twilight,"  he  said  softly, 
for  she  was  absorbed  in  following  the  van 
ished  sun  into  the  west. 

"That  from  you,  Richard!  I  am  sur 
prised.  You  are  surely  not  turning  poeti 
cal?" 

"  Not  poetical,  but  desperate.  It's  so  con 
founded  lonesome  down  here  that  you've  got 
to  take  an  interest  in  something  or  dry  up. 
So,  in  the  absence  of  anything  else,  I've  taken 
to  twilight." 

She  laughed  right  merrily,  which  made 
him  feel  comfortable  by  bringing  him  a  cer 
tain  amount  of  confidence.  There  wasn't 
much  in  this  Jones  escapade,  after  all!  She 
had  merely  gone  to  the  comfort  of  the  old 
woman,  and  what  could  be  more  natural  than 
that  one  of  the  cowboys  should  have  accom 
panied  her  home? 

"Did  you  see  Mr.  Ardell?"  Catherine 
228 


"NEVER   A   WORD    OF   LOVE!" 

asked,  having  nothing  of  more  interest  on  her 
tongue. 

"  Yes,  but  it  was  a  fool's  errand,  as  far 
as  our  anxiety  for  the  Berrys  was  concerned. 
He  bought  their  place  the  very  day  I  went 
over.  Your  friend  Jones  seems  to  have  been 
a  trifle  mistaken  in  him." 

He  bent  a  little  nearer,  and  naturally  con 
nected  her  smile  with  his  last  remark,  which 
pleased  him.  He  could  not  know  that  she 
was  thinking  of  the  Lambkin's  significant 
words:  u  We'll  probably  persuade  him  to  buy 
it."  Verily  had  he  been  a  wise  prophet. 

"  I  say,  Kit,"  said  Thorne,  cheerfully 
pleading,  "  when  are  you  going  to  get  out  of 
this?  Are  you  never  coming  back  to  the 
city?  Do  you  know  it's  September,  and  that 
the  season  will  soon  be  wide  open?  You 
haven't  forgot  the  hops  at  the  Fairchilds',  the 
suppers  at  Le  Clede's,  nor  the  frisky  Mrs. 
Travers  with  the  freckles  and  giggle?  My, 
but  don't  she  lead  old  Travers  a  pace!  His 
jealousy's  worse  than  a  comic  opera,  but  I'm 
blowed  if  I'd  want  her  flirting  with  me! 
You're  not  forgetting  the  old  life,  Kit?  " 

She  could  only  look  in  pity  at  this  man 
229 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

whom  money  had  spoiled.  Her  experience 
of  the  life  he  described  was  narrowed  to  a 
few  desolate  days,  but  he  made  it  his  world. 
Not  an  unprepossessing  fellow,  either,  was 
Dick  Thorne. 

"  Don't  you  think  the  twilight  is  better, 
Richard?  "  she  asked. 

Then  he  began  to  understand,  and  to 
curse  himself  for  having  forgotten  the  art  of 
tact.  For  the  rest  of  the  way  he  adapted  his 
discourse  to  the  soft  demands  of  the  surround 
ings  and  a  maiden  who  might  be  in  love,  and 
he  did  it  so  successfully  that  by  the  time  they 
reached  Twin  Bar  she  thought  better  of  him. 

Mr.  Ramsgate  found  such  a  satisfaction 
in  the  arrival  of  his  niece  with  Thorne  that 
he  welcomed  that  gentleman  much  as  a  father 
might  welcome  a  favored  son,  while  Mrs. 
Collett's  manner  was  pathetically  fervent. 
Catherine  was  again  their  beloved  niece, 
set  on  a  pinnacle  of  affection.  After  supper 
Mr.  Ramsgate  was  obliged  to  get  rid  of  some 
of  his  gaiety  by  a  demonstration. 

"  Let's  go  over  to  Jimsey's  quarters  and 
see  the  frolic,"  he  said. 

Some  of  the  cowboys  were  to  start  on  the 
230 


"NEVER   A  WORD   OF   LOVE!" 

round-up  to-morrow,  and  were  having  a  sort 
of  preliminary  "  blow-out,"  which  was  also 
in  honor  of  some  friends  who  had  happened 
in  from  the  up-country.  All  the  hands  and 
servants  had  been  invited  to  "  step  in  if  they 
felt  feverish."  Catherine  was  quite  ready  to 
help  along  the  fun,  and  Thorne  preferred  it 
to  conversation,  for  his  role  of  discreet  friend 
was  hard  to  keep  up,  and  he  was  every  mo 
ment  perilously  near  a  second  fall. 

Things  were  very  gay  at  Jimsey's.  One 
of  the  hands  had  tuned  up  an  old  fiddle  and 
was  sawing  ecstatically,  while  Buckboard 
Sam  executed  a  jig  with  astounding  vigor 
and  wonderful  suppleness.  Little  Jimsey 
imitated  him  in  the  rear,  to  the  delight  of  his 
admiring  parents,  and  from  all  quarters  ap 
probation  sounded.  There  was  one  guest, 
Reddy  Turns,  from  the  Allobar  country,  who 
had  evidently  been  too  liberally  supplied 
with  "  fire  drops,"  for  Jimsey  made  fruitless 
efforts  to  quiet  him  down  to  the  pitch  of  de 
corum  supposed  to  be  due  in  the  presence  of 
the  family  from  "  the  house."  This  noisy 
reveler  grew  silent  a  moment  watching  Cath 
erine,  who  was  in  the  midst  of  a  game,  while 

231 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

she  looked  the  incarnation  of  youth  and  joy. 
Then  he  broke  out,  determined  to  be  heard: 

"  I  say,  I  know  a  lady  when  I  see  her!  " 
He  jerked  his  head  toward  Catherine  with 
an  energy  that  would  have  toppled  him  to 
the  floor  but  for  the  timely  help  of  a  neighbor. 

"Stand  up  here!"  whispered  the  neigh 
bor,  "  and  screw  your  durned  mouth  shet! 
Don't  ye  see " 

"  Yes-sir-££,  I  do  see!  I  see  the  purtiest 
lady  thet  I  ever  set  eyes  on  'ceptin'  one,  an' 
she  wa'n't  no  lady!  Whip'will,  she  was. 
Ever  hye'rd  o'  her?  Bust  my  guns  if  she 
wasn't  a  peach!  You  ought  to  'a'  seen  her 
the  night  she  stood  up  with  the  Butternut  an' 
got  married!  I  had  a  hand  in  thet  little 
biz'ness — as  neat  a  biz'ness  as  ye  ever  saw 
done!" 

"Shet  up,  you  rascal!"  shouted  Jimsey, 
"  and  don't  tell  lies  on  your  betters!  " 

This  blunder  of  Jimsey's  opened  every 
ear  in  the  room  to  the  drunken  cowboy's 
story. 

"Betters,  says  he!  Betters!  Hear  him, 
gem'en!  Butternut  Jones  my  betters!  We 
was  pards,  I  tell  ye,  over  't  the  Sable  Serpent, 

232 


"NEVER   A  WORD    OF   LOVE!" 

an'  if  ye  come  with  me  over  't  the  Circle-B 
ye'll  find  out  if  he's  my  betters!  He'll  know 
me,  he  will!  Reckon  there  wa'n't  no  wed- 
din',  eh?  Reckon  the  Whip'will  didn't  rope 
him  slicker'n  Lariat  Bill  ever  roped  a  mus 
tang?  Had  a  preacher  all  honest,  an'  a  Bible 
in  his  hand,  an'  '  My  dearly  beloved,'  says 
he,  an'  had  'em  tied  in  a  minute  till  the  devil 
couldn't  bite  the  knot!  The  Butternut  an' 
the  Whip'will!  By  gracious,  but  she  was 
purty  that  night,  an'  the  Shuffler,  he  so  mad 
he  could  'a'  bit  nails  till  the  Whip'will  told 
him  marriage  needn't  make  no  difference  in 
ther  relations,  an'  the  Butternut,  he " 

Here  Jimsey  took  the  narrator  by  the 
throat  and  backed  him  into  a  side  room, 
where  a  muffled  altercation  ensued.  Then 
Reddy  seemed  to  be  loose,  and  was  heard  to 
shout,  "  Shoot  me  dead  if  I  ain't  tellin'  the 
livin'  truth!  "  Catherine  looked  cold  as  lead, 
and  was  certainly  shivering. 

"  Let  us  go,  my  love,"  said  Mrs.  Collett. 
"  It  is  rougher  than  we  expected." 

Back  in  the  sitting-room  Catherine's  face 
was  a  white  mask. 

"  She  has  a  chill,"  cried  Mrs.  Collett;  "  I 
IG  233 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

must  get  a  hot  tea.  John,  I  want  to  speak  to 
you,"  she  called  frantically,  flying  out. 

"  What  a  terrible  lie!  "  said  Catherine,  as 
her  uncle  followed  her  aunt,  appealing  to 
Thorne  with  a  look  that  set  him  glowing. 
She  was  turning  to  him,  the  old  friend,  for 
hope  in  her  despair.  Such  suffering  would 
have  softened  him,  for  she  was  a  moan  of  pain 
from  head  to  foot;  but  the  thought  that  it 
was  for  another  man  made  his  pity  pitiless. 

"  Catherine,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand, 
which  she  at  once  withdrew.  He  was  a  little 
pale,  for  he  felt  that  it  was  his  critical  mo 
ment.  Now,  above  all  times,  must  he  con 
duct  himself  with  tact.  "  I  will  go  to  him 
to-night;  I  will  learn  the  truth  from  him " 

"  Not  to-night,"  said  a  slow  voice.  "  You 
won't  find  him  to-night." 

At  the  window  behind  him,  which  opened 
on  the  veranda,  stood  Slow  Mose,  or  the 
"  Turtle,"  from  the  Circle-B,  a  cowboy  in 
movement  so  habitually  slow  as  to  impart  to 
him  always  a  ludicrous  air  of  profundity. 
Accident  had  given  this  man  a  vicious  right 
eye,  the  kick  of  a  colt  having  scarred  the 
brow  into  an  expression  of  menace,  which, 

234 


"  NEVER   A   WORD    OF   LOVE!" 

however,  the  rest  of  his  affable  face  belied. 
After  trying  a  whirl  at  Jimsey's  and  assisting 
the  foreman  in  quieting  the  noisy  citizen  from 
Allobar,  he  had  followed  Captain  Kitty  to 
the  house,  for  he  had  a  message  for  her. 

"  Butternut  Jones  ain't  been  hye'rd  of  fer 
five  days,  ma'am.  He's  quit  the  country 
clean,  an'  the  only  word  he  left  as  I  knows 
of  was  to  bring  his  dawg  to  you.  Do  ye 
want  him  inside,  ma'am?  I've  got  him  tied." 

He  was  gone.     Damning  corroboration! 

"  Go  away!"  cried  Catherine,  and  the 
Turtle  vanished. 

"  A  lie!    A  terrible  lie!  "  she  repeated. 

"  I  will  go  to  that  place,"  said  Thorne. 
"  The  man  will  tell  me  the  way,  or,  if  he 
won't,  I  will  find  it,  and  whatever  the  truth 
I  will  bring  it  to  you." 

He  bowed  with  great  gallantry,  but  she 
was  too  chilled  to  notice  him.  For  now  there 
had  gone  cold  to  her  pulseless  heart  the 
thought  that  while  she  had  known  instinc 
tively  that  a  certain  man  had  loved  her,  the 
knowledge  was  wholly  instinctive.  Through 
all  their  hours  together  he  had  talked  of 
mountains  and  rivers  and  books,  and  had  told 

235 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

her  many  a  quaint  and  humorous  legend,  but 
never  by  word  or  gesture  had  he  spoken  of 
love.  His  lane  of  opportunity  had  been  wide, 
but  from  end  to  end  had  he  kept  a  silent, 
sleepless  guard  upon  his  lips — and  this  was 
why.  Men  sometimes  do  not  ask  the  women 
they  love  to  marry  them,  but  it  is  from  pride, 
never  from  humility — the  fear  to  risk  a  fall, 
not  the  fear  that  they  deserve  one.  Butter 
nut  had  been  neither  proud  nor  humble.  He 
had  been  speechless  before  the  impossible. 

Catherine  went  wearily  to  her  room,  and 
received  her  aunt's  ministrations  in  bed. 
Even  Mrs.  Collett  was  awed  into  unselfish 
ness  by  the  sight  of  her  niece's  face,  and  Cath 
erine  felt  that  after  all  her  aunt  had  been 
right — that  she  would  have  saved  her.  So 
their  good-night  speech  was  the  sincerest  they 
had  known  for  some  time. 

"  Tell  uncle  good  night,"  said  Catherine, 
in  a  tone  that  meant  utter  capitulation  to  the 
world  as  she  found  it — utter  letting  go  of  the 
world  as  she  dreamed  it.  Then,  left  alone, 
her  thoughts  played  havoc  with  her  throb 
bing  head  until  mental  exhaustion  at  last 
brought  relief  in  blessed  unconsciousness. 

236 


"NEVER   A   WORD   OF   LOVE!" 

Dick  Thorne  found  it  unnecessary  to  visit 
the  preacher  of  Whitewater.  Jimsey,  long 
before  the  gentleman  of  fashion  had  finished 
his  breakfast,  had  completed  half  the  jour 
ney,  and  the  man  from  Allobar  was  with 
him.  The  miserable  foreman,  as  he  rode, 
could  only  lift  his  voice  in  a  kind  of  wail, 
"  Lambkin,  Lambkin,  you  wasn't  such  a 
fool!" 

But  when  he  returned,  late  in  the  after 
noon,  the  sight  of  his  drawn  face  left  all 
speech  superfluous.  Catherine,  putting  her 
hands  to  her  burning  cheeks,  fled  to  her  room, 
where  for  a  time,  as  she  tried  to  understand, 
she  could  get  no  further  than  a  dumb  stare 
into  the  impenetrable  wall  of  fact — she  had 
loved  a  man  and  he  was  married.  But  was 
that  all?  No.  She  might  have  endured  that, 
but  the  destruction  of  her  ideal  denied  her 
even  the  blessed  balm  of  forgiving  Butternut. 
Gladly,  gratefully  would  she  have  done  so 
had  he  merely  married  a  wicked  woman — 
men  frequently  do  that — but  a  dance-hall 
favorite! — a  bar-room  wench! 

Was  it  unnatural  that  Catherine,  after 
many  aching  days,  should  grow  a  little  hard- 

237 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

ened  and  strive  to  put  her  dreams  behind 
her?  Was  it  not  also  to  be  expected  that  she 
should  turn  to  the  person  who,  being  near 
est  her  kind  at  this  time,  could  most  interest 
her — the  old  friend  of  other  days — Dick 
Thorne?  and  that  he,  with  the  tact  of  a  man 
of  the  world,  should  keep  his  interests  in  the 
background  and  express  nothing  by  gesture 
or  tongue  save  sympathy? 

Regardless  of  our  woes  we  are  obliged  to 
live,  and  with  youth  especially  is  it  a  sorry 
game  to  live  alone. 


238 


CHAPTER   XVI 

OKLAHOMA 

SEPTEMBER  FIFTEENTH,  Ninety-three — 
Oklahoma! 

Again,  after  a  sleep  of  four  years,  had 
the  magic  word  flown  broadcast  to  every 
quarter  and  encamped  an  army  of  maniacs 
on  the  borders  of  the  enchanted  land.  The 
Cherokee  Strip  on  the  morrow  would  be 
open  for  settlement,  its  choicest  acres  as  free 
as  air  to  the  man  or  woman  who  could  get 
them  first. 

Billy,  the  tenderfoot,  spent  the  night  kick 
ing  at  his  blankets.  With  their  diabolical 
folds  some  part  of  his  body  seemed  always 
at  war.  At  intervals  his  hand  explored  the 
ground  to  remove  a  lump  of  wondrous  size 
driven  indelicately  into  his  person,  but  gen 
erally  his  woes  were  with  the  blankets.  They 
behaved  always  in  the  manner  of  assailants. 
They  smothered  him  in  clammy  embrace, 

239 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

which  is  the  way  of  all  bedding  on  a  sultry 
night,  and  the  rain  of  other  days  had  be 
queathed  to  them  the  smell  of  old  leather. 

However,  his  chief  cause  for  unrest  bore 
from  another  quarter.  From  the  level  above 
him,  back  of  the  creek  woods,  signs  of  high 
excitement  reached  him  in  a  volley  of  de 
moniacal  sound.  Cries  deep  and  mighty,  to 
the  chorus  of  battering  hoofs,  had  for  hours 
sawed  the  night;  there  throbbed  on  the 
plain  a  wild,  hoarse  throng  whose  voice  had 
the  composite  quality  of  a  clamor,  a  roar,  and 
a  chant.  Born  at  a  point  miles  distant,  it 
swept  nearer  with  speed,  and,  climbing  in 
volume,  smote  the  timber  in  a  long,  scream 
ing  crash. 

The  resolute  grumble  of  the  road-wagons 
was  first  in  prominence,  and  might  have  been 
heard  across  the  breadth  of  the  "  divide," 
while  the  shrill  stock-whips  spoke  blatantly 
and  trace-chains  jangled  in  strong  under 
song.  Frequently  in  the  distance  occurred  a 
collision,  with  the  noise  of  bones  a-tumble, 
followed  by  a  stream  of  miraculous  oaths, 
and  the  tenderfoot  gathered  that  teamsters 
were  abusing  each  other  in  the  dark.  One 

240 


OKLAHOMA 

man,  riding  at  a  gallop  by  the  edge  of  the 
canon,  made  malicious  reference  to  another 
man.  A  shambling  wagon  at  periods,  shriek 
ing  insanely,  proclaimed  that  it  suffered  for 
grease,  and  between  the  voicings  of  its  com 
plaint  droned  a  softer  crinking  noise,  the 
whip-whish  sound  of  leather  on  leather.  On 
occasion,  too,  could  be  discerned  the  rhyth 
mic  step  of  a  trained  column  marching,  and 
the  whisper  of  shifting  musketry,  blended 
with  bugle-like  commands;  and  as  these 
sounds  were  wrought  upon  the  night,  con 
tinually  drummed  the  hoof-chorus. 

The  air  bore  the  smell  of  a  crowd  at  a 
circus.  The  dust  of  the  plain  rose  lazily, 
bellying,  as  smoke  bellies  over  a  town  of 
many  mills,  and  at  every  point  the  chief 
thing  to  be  felt  was  a  quivering,  vibrant  beat 
ing,  the  resonant  pulse  of  an  uproar. 

The  tenderfoot,  lost  in  the  shadows,  strove 
laboriously  to  distinguish  objects,  but  the 
gloom  of  the  canon  was  around  him  and  dis 
cernment  halted  at  the  elbow.  Across  the 
stream  a  flimsy,  pale  border  marked  the  sky 
line,  above  which  the  tops  of  the  creek  woods 
groped  in  mystery  at  the  clouds.  These  trees 

241 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

were  so  fantastic  in  shape  that  he  whiled  the 
time  in  ascribing  to  them  various  fanciful 
identities.  Ghosts  of  childhood  giants  they 
might  be,  castles  of  romance,  or  crags  and 
peaks  of  legends,  and  finally  it  was  probable 
that  they  were  merely  the  vaporing  dust  curl 
ing  up  from  the  plain. 

Ultimately,  across  the  divide,  came  the 
dawn  curtainwise,  and  flung  a  violet  light 
over  the  landscape.  At  once  the  mysterious 
cloaked  objects  of  the  canon  began  to  intro 
duce  themselves.  Trees  loomed  gray,  like 
steeples  in  a  fog.  Two  horses,  tethered  in 
the  shrubbery  close  at  hand,  sidled  like  shad 
ows  into  view. 

The  tenderfoot,  rising  with  caution  on  an 
elbow,  yawned  prodigiously  from  extreme 
weariness.  His  inexperience  at  this  sort  of 
thing  made  him  feel  as  if  he  had  been  hung 
on  a  fence  or  had  lain  for  weeks  on  a  wood 
pile.  Standing  and  stretching  to  the  limits 
of  his  frame,  he  began  the  day  by  remarking 
jocularly  to  the  world: 

"  I  feel  like  a  skeleton  in  reduced  circum 
stances." 

His  gaze  swept  with  malice  a  curious 
242 


OKLAHOMA 

jumble  of  blankets  and  humanity  which 
lay  by  him  in  a  wonderful  sprawl,  and  from 
the  depths  of  which  a  gentle  and  regular 
breathing  rose  comfortably.  He  seemed  to 
take  this  evidence  of  tranquillity  as  little  short 
of  an  insult. 

"  Sleepin'  like  the  angels.  Hi,  you!  Get 
up!  " 

There  was  a  labored  movement  of  the 
jumble,  and  as  the  tenderfoot  swung  an  im 
pending  boot  there  gathered  a  shape  which 
rose  specter-like.  It  evolved  swiftly  into  a 
tall,  elastic  youth,  of  fine-cut  features  and 
slender  of  limb,  but  withal  a  certain  fulness 
of  figure  that  averted  any  conclusion  of  fra- 
gileness.  His  pantaloons  were  of  corduroy, 
blousing  at  the  boot-tops  and  encircled  at  the 
waist  by  a  leathern  belt  on  which  appeared 
a  number  of  Indian  designs  in  colored  beads 
and  threads,  and  at  his  soft  shirt-collar  there 
dangled  in  a  loose  knot  a  clean  polka-dot  tie. 

After  a  quick  glance  from  left  to  right  he 
turned  an  eye  of  reproach  on  his  companion, 
and  spoke  in  a  quiet  drawl : 

"  You  are  makin'  a  lot  o'  noise,  William. 
Is  it  a  stampede,  or  a  storm?  " 

243 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

The  tenderfoot  seemed  to  gather  addi 
tional  offense  from  these  words,  and  accord 
ingly  descended  upon  him  with  a  whoop  of 
challenge,  whereat  it  appeared  that  the  other 
was  in  no  way  to  he  surprised,  for  he  retained 
his  balance  with  amazing  ease  and  dexter 
ously  enfolded  his  assailant. 

"  Jones,  can  you  see  the  creek?  " 
"  William,  my  eyes  are  good." 
"  Well,  I'm  goin'  to  put  you  in." 
"You  don't  say!" 

There  followed  a  terrific  lifting  of  the 
gravel,  the  crashing  of  sticks  and  brush  from 
the  havoc  of  their  heels.  Winding  warily, 
with  numerous  twists,  wrenches,  and  whirls, 
they  steered  about,  each  with  the  other  en 
circled,  until  often  as  they  wheeled  the  pivot 
was  a  single  limb.  One  had  been  famous  at 
Cambridge  for  his  way  of  conveying  an  in 
flated  ball  through  a  wall  of  armored  muscle, 
but  the  other  had  followed  bulls  over  plain 
and  through  chaparral  in  all  kinds  of  weath 
er.  The  tenderfoot  knew  many  tricks  of  the 
college  game,  and  he  tried  them  here,  but  it 
was  useless.  His  slim  adversary  had  the 
curves  of  a  weasel  and  was  quite  as  slippery. 

244 


OKLAHOMA 

Presently  in  one  spot  the  wrestlers  became 
established,  as  rigid  as  trees.  In  no  direction, 
and  by  no  maneuver,  it  seemed,  could  either 
be  impelled  from  his  ground;  but  finally, 
after  some  moments  of  this  tension,  the  ten 
derfoot,  with  the  other's  forearm  like  a  stone 
under  his  chin  and  a  steel-like  pressure  on 
his  spine,  was  forced  slowly  and  gently  upon 
his  back. 

The  Lambkin,  at  once  breaking  away, 
made  a  gesture  in  which  he  feigned  a  wide 
measure  of  contempt. 

"  Now,  if  I  were  a  suckling  ca'af,  say  two 
days  old,  with  wobbly  legs,  and  a  stiff  wind 
was  in  your  favor,  you  might  stand  a  show. 
You're  young  yet,  William.  You  oughtn't 
have  ventured  West  till  you  were  grown  up." 

He  wheeled  blithely  and  strode  along  the 
stream  toward  the  horses.  They  whinnied 
gleefully  on  his  approach.  One  of  them  he 
smote  admiringly  in  the  flank,  vowing  that 
he  was  a  spanking  steed,  and  the  animal  in 
acknowledgment  bit  playfully  at  his  shoul 
der.  Gathering  their  halters  in  hand,  he 
went  between  them  to  the  creek,  and  stood 
whistling  while  they  drank. 

245 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Meanwhile  the  tenderfoot  was  exploring 
the  depths  of  a  pair  of  provision  bags  which 
swung  from  a  convenient  sapling.  A  rectan 
gular  chunk  of  raw  bacon  he  first  brought  to 
light,  viewing  it  dubiously  at  arm's  length 
and  mentally  numbering  its  future  days.  A 
loaf  of  camp  bread,  of  doubtful  complexion 
and  hard  as  a  gourd,  he  next  resurrected, 
weighing  this  also  at  a  distance,  with  a  casual 
tribute  to  its  suitability  for  other  purposes. 
He  then  gathered  some  dead  branches,  and 
with  the  aid  of  a  newspaper  started  a  blaze, 
after  which,  filling  the  coffee-pail  with  water 
from  the  creek,  he  resolutely  armed  him 
self  with  a  frying-pan.  From  time  to  time 
during  these  proceedings  he  paused  to  cast 
an  uneasy  eye  toward  the  sounds  upon  the 
plain. 

The  Lambkin  returned  to  camp  whistling 
a  melancholy  air  which  he  could  not  exactly 
recall.  His  gait  was  loose  and  unintentional. 
He  had  the  confident  swagger  of  a  person  in 
his  own  township.  Halting  by  the  breakfast 
fire,  his  head  aslant  and  eyes  asquint  to  evade 
the  smoke,  he  viewed  approvingly  the  savory 
preparations.  The  tenderfoot,  flushed  and 

246 


OKLAHOMA 

ravenous,  was  forking  the  meat  brown  side 
skyward. 

"  William,"  said  the  Lambkin,  admiring 
ly,  "  you  make  a  reasonably  fair  cook.  Salt 
me  if  you're  not  handier  at  flippin'  bacon 
than  at  wrestlin'." 

Billy,  while  he  had  faith  in  his  power  to 
come  off  resplendent  in  a  second  bout,  dis 
dained  the  challenge.  It  may  be  that  the 
approaching  repast,  which  he  regarded  as 
more  or  less  of  a  concoction,  was  something 
he  was  anxious  to  dispose  of.  Presently  set 
ting  the  sizzling  frying-pan  to  one  side,  he 
remarked  with  great  gravity  that  breakfast 
was  now  ready  in  the  dining-car.  They  at 
once  laid  violent  hands  on  the  victuals,  and 
as  they  breakfasted  and  their  conversation 
flowed,  it  was  plain  that  theirs  was  not  a  pass 
ing  acquaintance. 

Down  at  Fort  Worth  they  had  met  casu 
ally,  the  West  and  the  East.  Later,  by  Guth- 
rie,  West  had  guided  East  in  the  purchase 
of  a  horse.  Billy  had  early  confided  to  his 
guide  that  he  had  but  a  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars,  and  asked  the  best  way  to  invest  it, 
whereupon  the  Lambkin,  after  a  little  figur- 

247 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

ing,  had  advised  him  to  put  a  hundred  and 
forty-five  of  it  in  a  horse. 

"  Ponies  are  cheap,"  said  Billy. 

"  But  hawses  are  high,  William.  You 
want  a  steed  that  can  run.  A  Kentucky  racer 
or  a  thoroughbred  from  Ohio  won't  be  any 
too  swift  for  you,  I  reckon.  They've  got  'em 
here  by  the  car-loads,  to  rent  or  buy." 

In  securing  Billy  a  steed,  as  well  as  one 
for  his  own  use,  Butternut  had  been  both 
fortunate  and  wise.  He  had  become  a  fair 
judge  of  horses,  and  in  addition  to  this  knowl 
edge,  among  the  dealers  at  the  market  had 
run  upon  a  burly  man  he  had  known  in 
Texas,  and  who  greeted  him  with  love  in 
his  eye. 

"  Lambkin,  you're  the  one  person  in  the 
world  I  wouldn't  swindle  to-day.  Here's  old 
Roan  Rebel,  one  o'  the  fastest  nags  that  ever 
wore  a  girth,  an'  that  sorrel  with  a  bald  face 
is  his  cousin.  I'll  lend  'em  to  you  fer  fifty 
apiece,  an'  if  ye  let  anything  pass  you,  skin 
me  if  I  don't  hev  ye  shot." 

So  instead  of  buying  second-rate  steeds 
with  their  limited  funds,  they  had  hired  ani 
mals  of  quality;  and  thus,  properly  mounted, 

248 


OKLAHOMA 

Billy  and  his  guide  had  journeyed  to  the 
border-line. 

"  We'll  run  for  what's  goin'  to  be  the 
town  of  Perry,  William,"  the  Lambkin  had 
advised,  "  only  ten  miles  from  the  line.  It's 
the  county-seat,  and  if  we  land  anywhere  close 
to  the  town,  I  reckon  we  ought  to  be  rich  in 
a  year." 

By  the  time  they  had  now  finished  their 
repast  the  sun  had  lifted  on  the  plain,  and 
the  tops  of  the  trees  in  the  hollow  were  tinc 
tured  with  the  hue  of  pale  orange.  A  small 
leaf,  fluttering  occasionally  in  the  foliage, 
shone  with  the  glitter  of  new  metal. 

Suddenly  Billy,  bending  intently  nearer 
the  Lambkin,  referred  to  the  question  of 
highest  importance  to  their  minds: 

"  I  say,  Jones,  when's  she  goin'  to  come 
off?" 

Apparently  the  allusion  was  to  something 
which  was  going  to  happen  on  the  plain,  for 
Butternut's  throat  swelled  with  feeling  as  his 
quick  glance  upward  studied  keenly  the  sum 
mit  of  the  bank.  To  the  clangorous  din  on 
the  plain  there  had  been  no  interruption. 
With  insane  persistence  the  voices  of  the  wild 
17  249 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

tongues  clashed  on  the  air — unceasing  in 
formation  of  the  presence  of  a  throng.  Once 
there  was  a  lull  as  a  number  of  factors  in  the 
tumult  paused  in  miraculous  unison,  but  the 
half-silence  seemed  a  thing  more  tremendous 
than  the  highest  point  of  the  clamor.  Wag 
ons,  their  axles  grinding,  continued  to  screech 
expostulation.  High  on  the  morning  air  the 
vibrant  note  of  the  trace-chains  jangled  al 
ways  like  a  song. 


250, 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE  LONG,  GRIM   LINE 

SAID  the  Lambkin,  as  he  gestured  care 
lessly  toward  the  uproar: 

"  Twelve  o'clock,  William,  is  when  the 
entertainment's  due  to  begin,  and  I'm  think- 
in'  we'll  be  fully  informed  o'  the  hour. 
There'll  be  quite  a  lively  little  rumpus,  I 
judge." 

It  was  a  way  of  the  Lambkin  to  put  all 
things  modestly. 

Their  preparations  told  of  coming  great 
action.  While  Billy  gathered  and  returned 
to  the  bags  the  breakfast  hardware,  the  Lamb 
kin  again  swung  along  the  bank,  and  pres 
ently  brought  the  horses  into  camp.  With 
a  dexterity  and  ease  bespeaking  long  prac 
tise  he  buckled  the  blankets  into  rolls  and 
girded  upon  each  animal  a  saddle  and  pack. 
To  each  of  his  boot-heels  he  then  fastened  a 
steel-plated  spur,  polished  and  glittering,  and 

251 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

finally  from  a  branch  above  him  dislodged  a 
lopping  white  sombrero  which,  adjusted,  left 
him  complete.  From  scalp  to  heels  he  was  a 
cowboy.  As  for  Billy,  while  he  had  contrived 
to  provide  himself  with  spurs,  there  was  little 
else  about  him  in  keeping  with  his  comrade. 
The  Lambkin,  however,  regarded  him  always 
with  a  show  of  pride. 

Taking  each  a  bridle,  they  preceded  their 
steeds  up  the  slanting  bank,  a  winding  cow- 
path  guiding  them  to  the  summit.  Immedi 
ately  they  found  themselves  at  one  end  of  a 
column  of  horses  and  wagons  which  stretched 
off  to  the  west  interminably.  A  low  hill 
stood  at  the  distance  of  a  mile  and  a  taller 
one  appeared  beyond,  yet  over  the  crest  of 
each  appeared  a  receding  section  of  this  line. 
Clearly  it  had  but  one  end. 

The  tenderfoot  cast  an  amazed  eye  along 
the  heads  of  the  horses,  straight  and  even  as 
a  line  of  prize  cavalry  on  review.  The 
sounds  of  high  uproar  which  had  reached 
him  through  the  night  had  not  prepared  him 
for  so  orderly  a  spectacle.  However,  he 
was  looking  only  at  the  front  of  the  column. 
The  southward  side  or  rear  presented  a  scene 

252 


THE    LONG,    GRIM    LINE 

to  be  contemplated  with  distended  jaw — a 
panorama  of  confusion,  screaming,  chaotic — 
a  bawling  sea  of  barbarians  wild  with  one 
desire;  a  commotion  gigantic  that  seemed  to 
be  drowning  the  world  with  noise.  In  all 
directions  steered  vehicles  in  careening,  reck 
less  fashion,  with  no  law  as  to  movement,  but 
with  the  behavior  of  straws  in  a  gale.  Horse 
men  wheeling  riotously  in  circles  met  horse 
men  who  sped  in  direct  lines,  and  there  was 
trouble.  Yells  were  everywhere,  and  at  times 
the  plain  might  have  trembled.  The  short 
autumn  grass,  hammered  to  shreds  by  the 
hoofs  and  beaten  into  the  earth,  left  free  the 
dust  which  rose  in  banks.  A  cavalcade  of 
cowboys  appeared  where  it  was  thickest,  their 
leader  singing,  while  lean-faced  women 
peered  at  them  from  the  depths  of  the  rest 
less  wagons. 

A  man  on  a  saffron  mule  went  amid  the 
throng  shouting.  Dust  lay  in  stripes  on  his 
face.  He  wore  a  drab  linen  ulster  and  with 
an  enormous  figured  handkerchief  occasion 
ally  sponged  his  brow.  He  was  an  elderly 
man,  with  a  little,  sharp  chin,  and  of  insig 
nificant  stature,  but  his  mule  was  something 

253 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

colossal,  and,  bearing  him  on  high  through 
the  crowd,  invested  him  with  a  prominence 
he  could  have  never  otherwise  attained.  He 
shouted  always  in  a  blaring  voice  of  tin,  while 
he  rode  nonchalantly  here  and  there  with  a 
simple  anxiety  to  be  where  the  commotion 
was  greatest.  In  these  proceedings  he  had 
the  idle,  pleasurable  interest  of  a  man  at  a 
country  fair. 

On  every  hand  were  to  be  seen  all  types 
of  men.  At  the  back  of  the  line  a  company 
of  blue  infantry  at  rest  on  a  knoll  viewed  the 
tumult  with  languor.  To  Billy  their  pres 
ence  explained  the  martial  sounds  he  had  dis 
tinguished  at  periods  of  the  night,  though  it 
was  now  plain  that  they  found  little  of  in 
terest  in  the  doings  of  this  mad  throng.  Their 
part  in  the  day's  arrangements  having  ceased 
with  the  orderly  formation  of  the  long  for 
ward  line — in  which  they  had  been  assisted 
by  cavalrymen  in  front — their  present  busi 
ness  was  merely  to  await  the  time  when 
chance  emergency  might  bring  them  into 
action.  Accordingly  on  the  knoll  they  oc 
cupied  idle  positions  and  joked  at  the  mul 
titude. 

254 


THE    LONG,    GRIM    LINE 

Behind  them,  on  the  crest  of  the  hill,  stood 
a  bent  and  bearded  man  in  deerskins  and  moc 
casins.  A  disconsolate  hound  whined  at  his 
feet.  Occasionally,  in  a  dry,  mirthless  way, 
the  exiled  trapper  would  join  in  the  laugh  of 
the  blue  soldiers,  then,  looking  again  at  the 
yelling  crowd,  would  remark  to  the  hound 
that  this  was  a  great  day.  A  vagabond  Indi 
an,  in  the  castaway  pantaloons  of  an  infantry 
man  and  bearing  a  pipe  shaped  like  a  toma 
hawk,  made  periodical  quests  for  tobacco.  A 
gambler  in  hard  luck  labored  with  infinite 
craft  to  bring  a  cowboy  to  the  mood  of  ex 
changing  his  bronco  for  a  bad  watch — a  task 
which  was  hopeless  to  the  point  of  pathos, 
for  it  required  a  fortune  to  here  buy  a  horse, 
and  fortunes  were  rare  in  this  crowd.  It  hap 
pened,  paradoxically,  that  a  man  in  a  saddle 
was  a  millionaire. 

Somewhere  in  the  throng  a  monotonous 
man  with  a  dilapidated  drum — relic  of  a 
stranded  circus — thumped  it  continually  with 
the  automatic  persistence  of  a  hired  man. 
About  him  was  a  certain  pomp,  a  blaze  of 
glory,  born  of  his  triumph  in  contributing  to 
the  tumult  a  new  kind  of  sound. 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Billy  turned  an  appealing  eye  on  the 
Lambkin. 

"  Lively  crowd,  Jones?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  his  comrade,  bending  close 
that  he  might  impart  a  lesser  pitch  to  his 
voice,  "  they  do  seem  to  be  sorter  active.  But 
I  judge  they  won't  really  kick  up  a  fuss  till 
they  get  the  order  to  move.  Then'll  come 
the  dance."  ;> 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  hold  our  colors?  " 

"  I  think  we  can,  William.  Our  hawses 
are  fresh  and  as  good  as  any  in  the  bunch, 
and  after  the  first  hundred  yards  there'll  be 
plenty  o'  room  in  front.  Some  o'  those 
mavericks  in  line  that  think  they've  got  the 
whole  prairie  grabbed  and  staked  are  goin' 
to  go  lame  when  the  show  begins." 

Billy  surveyed  again  the  prodigious  front 
line  which  impressed  him  as  a  thing  of  sinis 
ter  propensities.  He  observed  that  the  men 
in  the  wagons  enjoyed  the  better  view,  their 
spring  seats  lifting  them  slightly  above  the 
horsemen.  In  consequence  they  frequently 
sighted  a  comrade  in  the  crowd  who  re 
sponded  with  his  eye,  and  they  flung  conver 
sation  spirally  over  the  heads  that  intervened. 

256 


THE    LONG,    GRIM    LINE 

Billy  noticed  that  the  tone  of  these  remarks 
varied  with  the  position  of  the  comrade.  If 
in  the  forward  line  he  was  considerably  ad 
mired,  but  if  in  the  tangled  ranks  to  the  rear 
he  very  much  resembled  a  terrapin  or  cater 
pillar,  and  there  were  numerous  occupations 
that  better  befitted  him.  It  was  "  Hullo, 
Steve!  Glad  to  see  ye  head  hawg!"  or 
"  Pete!  Go  home  V  feed  yer  cows!  "  as  the 
case  might  be. 

It  was  also  apparent  that  this  event  had 
been  the  means  of  assembling  a  number  of 
weather  philosophers.  Frequently  an  elderly 
oracle,  gesticulating  with  his  beard,  would 
remark  that  he  apprehended  rain.  At  inter 
vals  a  problem  in  humor  traveled  by  stages 
down  the  line,  and  once  the  man  on  a  saffron 
mule  sang,  dolorously: 

"Ears  supreme  and  legs  dee-vme, 
My  Moll  mule  is  a  he-ro-/#<?." 

Always  in  the  air  was  a  bowstring  vibra 
tion.  Billy  noticed,  too,  that  there  was  a 
woman  or  two  in  the  line. 

It  occurred  to  the  Lambkin  presently  to 
advise  the  tenderfoot  with  reference  to  their 

257 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

behavior  when  the  time  for  action  should 
arrive. 

"  You'll  notice,  William,"  said  he,  "  that 
we  are  penned  in  here  like  prize  shoats  by 
these  wagons,  so  the  thing  to  do'll  be  to 
crowd  their  hind  wheels  till  there's  a  gap, 
then  swing  through  and " 

"Steer  north?" 

"  Yes ;  north  till  we  hit  the  old  Hutton 
Trail,  by  the  Lone  Cottonwood,  then  west 
wards  along  the  edge  o'  the  black-jacks,  then 
straight  through  the  timber  for  half  a  mile, 
strikin'  the  open  by  Dry  Creek,  and  from 
there  over  the  jumpin'  plains " 

His  friend  of  the  horse-market  had  given 
Butternut  directions,  had  even  provided  him 
with  a  chart  of  the  country,  which  the  wily 
Lambkin  had  studied  until  copied  indelibly 
on  his  brain. 

"Slow  up,  Jones!"  cried  the  tenderfoot. 
"Can't  follow  you!" 

"  You'll  have  to,  William,  when  the  dance 
begins — to  the  flower  land  o'  Oklahoma! 
Only  ten  miles,  and  we  must  get  there  first — 
you  hear  me,  William — we  must  get  there!  " 

Billy  resolved  privately  that  if  necessary 
258 


THE    LONG,    GRIM    LINE 

he  would  leap  over  rivers,  uproot  a  forest, 
surmount  any  obstacle  in  order  to  "  get  there." 
The  fever  of  the  "  boomer  "  was  upon  him. 
He  became  a  part  of  the  mad,  clamoring 
throng. 

As  for  the  Lambkin,  while  he  was  enthu 
siastic,  he  showed  little  excitement,  although 
as  his  gaze  swept  the  north  with  calmness,  he 
squirmed  a  little  restlessly  in  the  stirrups. 

A  cavalry  corporal  on  an  iron-gray  horse 
rode  up  and  down  the  front  of  the  line.  His 
gauntleted  right  hand  held  a  bugle  which 
glittered  in  the  sun  as  from  time  to  time  he 
waved  it  like  a  menacing  wand  at  the  multi 
tude.  A  blast  from  this  instrument  was  to  be 
the  official  signal  of  the  opening,  and  as  time 
sped,  the  gaze  of  every  person  whose  position 
permitted  became  glued  to  this  corporal.  So 
general  and  intense  was  the  interest  he  pro 
duced  that  it  softened  the  rampant  ardor  of 
some  of  the  boomers.  They  no  longer  yelled, 
nor  sought  to  shoulder  each  other  from  the 
landscape.  It  required  an  agile  man  to  keep 
an  alert  eye  on  the  cavalryman  and  attend  to 
the  aggressiveness  of  a  neighbor  at  the  same 
time. 

259 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

At  one  minute  to  twelve  the  hand  with 
the  bugle  was  resting  quietly  on  the  corporal's 
thigh.  As  the  seconds  wore  along  the  breath 
of  an  impending  crisis  seemed  to  fill  the  air 
like  a  substance,  and  the  tongues  of  the  men 
in  the  forward  line  were  suddenly  paralyzed. 
They  who  had  earlier  conversed  with  the 
freedom  of  old  acquaintances  and  discussed 
the  relative  superiority  of  some  brands  of 
tobacco  now  sat  woodenly,  friendless.  South 
ward,  along  the  creek,  the  trees  of  cottonwood 
and  mesquit  seemed  intent  spectators.  A 
venerable  buzzard  from  the  brow  of  a  snag 
was  solemnly  contemplative.  He  signaled  a 
brother,  a  hoary  patriarch,  and  they  compared 
notes. 

To  Billy  there  was  something  overmaster 
ing  and  suffocating  in  the  suspense — a  power 
which  seemed  to  grapple  his  throat  with  sin 
ister  fingers — as  over  five  thousand  hungry, 
intent  eyes  awaited  the  next  move  of  this 
gauntleted  hand.  It  seemed  incredible  that 
this  orderly,  even  line  was  to  suddenly  become 
a  frenzied  thing,  a  reaching,  spreading  mon 
ster,  filling  the  land  with  its  bluster  and  blare, 
merely  because  a  certain  man  should  raise  and 
blow  a  bugle. 


THE    LONG,    GRIM    LINE 

"William!" 

"  Well,  Jones?" 

"  What  d'you  s'pose  would  happen  if  that 
cavalryman  should  take  a  fool  notion  to  twist 
his  mustache?  " 

"Jerusalem!  They'd  steal  a  march  on 
Uncle  Sam!" 

"  I  reckon  they  would —  Get  ready, 
William." 

The  cavalryman  had  turned  the  head  of 
his  gray  northward,  and  was  gathering  up  his 
reins.  There  was  a  hum  of  restlessness  on 
every  hand  and  in  the  air  a  feeling  of  grim 
impatience.  Huge,  perspiring  palms  were 
rubbed  upon  overalls.  There  was  a  sputter 
ing  stream  of  laments.  One  man,  rising  on 
his  spring  seat,  flung  rasping  abuse  at  the 
horizon.  Another  appealed  complainingly  to 
space:  "Why  don't  he  blow?  Tears  to  me 
he's  blamed  slow!  " 

On  the  instant  the  corporal  sent  a  roving 
eye  down  the  line  on  either  side,  then,  lifting 
the  gauntleted  hand  deliberately,  blew  a  sin 
gle  blast. 


261 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

AT  THE  BLAST  OF  A  BUGLE 

WHEREAT,  with  a  suddenness  spasmodic 
and  a  degree  of  ferocity  not  to  be  touched 
upon  in  language,  the  multitude  here  assem 
bled  swept  northward.  There  occurred,  miles 
in  width,  an  avalanche  of  horses,  vehicles,  and 
men,  with  the  noise  and  motion  of  innumer 
able  mad  monsters.  A  commotion  colossal 
that,  distending,  filled  the  horizon.  A  reach 
ing  wave  of  humanity,  inflamed  to  demoniacal 
frenzy.  The  earth  rang  with  countless  thuds 
and  the  air  was  thick  with  yells  which  must 
have  reached  to  the  remotest  borders  of  the 
plain.  The  jangle  of  "  traces  "  and  brass- 
keyed  cries  of  the  men  rose  to  the  din  of  a 
tin-pan  brigade,  the  banshee  shriek  of  battle- 
hordes,  a  world  of  pandemonium.  The  rattle 
of  wheels  and  batter  of  hoofs  on  the  sod  spread 
broadwise  in  a  hurricane  of  sound. 

Afterward  in  Billy's  memory  the  thing 
262 


AT    THE    BLAST    OF    A    BUGLE 

which  lived  most  vividly  was  his  fleeting  view 
of  an  iron-gray  horse  leaping  through  the  air 
at  the  instant  his  own  steed  lunged,  and  But 
ternut,  bending,  yelled  him  advice: 

"Through  the  gap,  William!  Dead 
ahead!  Ride!" 

The  final  injunction  was  whirled  from 
the  highest  point  of  the  Lambkin's  lung- 
power,  and  Billy  knew  that  there  was  no  mis 
taking  it — he  must  ride.  Not  at  a  comfort 
able  canter,  or  a  lope,  or  even  at  a  gallop, 
but  as  the  cowboy  meant  it — at  a  pace  which 
would  bring  his  steed's  ears  and  tail  to  a  level 
and  carom  him  over  the  slopes  bullet-like — at 
a  speed  which  would  cause  him  to  divide  the 
air  so  swiftly  that  he  would  feel  himself  be 
coming  smaller  and  be  amazed.  But  Billy 
was  game  to  the  heels.  He  could  not,  of 
course,  ride  like  the  Lambkin,  as  if  he  were 
part  of  his  horse,  but  he  could  at  least  stay 
in  the  saddle,  and  the  bald-faced  sorrel  needed 
no  spur.  So  with  a  wild,  challenging  cry  he 
squeezed  close  until  his  boot  rubbed  the  cow 
boy's,  and  thus  they  rode. 

The  swooping  throng  was  at  once  scat 
tered  wide  by  the  varying  fleetness  of  the 

263 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

horses,  and  there  were  instances  of  surprising 
speed  from  quarters  previously  unrecognized. 
Some  of  the  riders  who  had  hitherto  figured 
as  the  subjects  of  facetious  comment  because 
of  their  unpromising  mounts  now  showed  tri 
umphantly  at  the  front.  A  certain  selfish  man 
would  be  approaching  a  point  of  vantage,  his 
face  ashine  with  pride  in  the  superiority  of 
his  steed,  when  a  lamb-eyed,  unpretentious 
beast,  which  had  earlier  in  no  way  indicated 
his  qualities,  would  pass  him  with  a  blithe, 
elastic  stride.  And  the  vanquished  rider, 
amazed  and  distressed,  would  turn  to  see  if 
others  of  this  class  were  in  sight.  Later  he 
would  become  filled  with  immeasurable  con 
tempt  for  the  quality  of  his  own  steed  and 
swear  profoundly  at  him. 

Among  the  horsemen  who  thus  astonished 
beholders  was  the  man  in  a  drab  ulster,  whose 
angular  mule  thrust  the  plain  behind  him 
with  swift,  miraculous  gestures.  The  ease 
with  which  this  animal  led  the  race  amounted 
to  sarcasm.  He  seemed  to  gather  a  mile  of 
landscape  in  about  the  same  period  required 
for  a  man  to  raise  his  voice. 

Billy  and  the  Lambkin  rode  always 
264 


AT    THE    BLAST    OF    A    BUGLE 

abreast.  Their  horses,  matched  in  speed, 
went  neck  to  neck,  and  the  prairie  flowed 
under  them,  a  limitless  gray-green  sea. 
Northward  for  a  mile  they  ran,  until  in  a  long 
sag  of  the  plain  they  came  upon  a  lone  cotton- 
wood —  the  Lambkin's  first  landmark  —  by 
which  ran  a  trail  westward.  Furrowed  and 
worn  from  the  travel  of  years  was  this  trail, 
and  hoofs  having  struck  it  just  before  them, 
they  crossed  in  a  world  of  yellow  dust.  Be 
yond,  they  steered  at  an  angle,  slowing  with 
steady  rein  as  the  prairie,  like  a  thing  that  is 
tired,  rolled  in  waves  toward  the  black-jack 
woods. 

"  Easy,  William,"  breathed  the  Lambkin, 
in  a  voice  full  of  dust;  "she's  jolty  now  to 
the  timber." 

Billy  offered  no  response.  Already  he 
had  little  breath  for  needless  conversation. 
With  a  feverish  eye  on  the  bobbing  head  of 
a  horseman  some  yards  in  advance  he  rode 
oblivious.  His  entire  interest  in  life  seemed 
fastened  upon  this  rider,  until  Butternut  gave 
him  a  swift,  uneasy  glance,  then  took  his  big 
hat  and  swung  it  viciously  before  the  other's 
face. 

is  265 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  Softly,  William,  or  you'll  be  gettin'  the 
1  glaze,'  "  he  wheezed. 

Another  mile  they  rode,  rising  on  the 
knolls  and  sinking  in  the  hollows  with  a 
rhythmic,  cradle-like  motion. 

"  What  is  the  '  glaze,'  Jones?  " 

"  It's  a  sort  o'  stupor  that  sometimes 
catches  a  man  new  to  the  saddle  from  ridin' 
too  long  at  one  tension.  Makes  him  dizzy 
and  likely  to  tumble,  and  loses  his  head  so't 
he  don't  care  if  he  does.  Don't  get  excited, 
is  the  safest  plan." 

They  had  reached  the  timber  stretch  and 
were  careering  along  the  edge  of  it.  The 
prairie  to  their  right  and  behind  them  was 
still  dotted  with  riders,  but  the  Lambkin 
gave  them  no  heed.  He  directed  his  atten 
tion  wholly  to  the  woods,  casting  from  time 
to  time  a  calculating  eye  through  the  trees. 
Presently  he  gave  utterance  to  a  gleeful  yell. 

"  That  tall  tree  yonder,  William,  on  the 
edge  o'  the  strip,  is  where  we  turn  in.  I  was 
beginnin'  to  fear  our  chart  had  lied.  There's 
a  cow-path  through  the  belt,  and  by  takin'  it 
we'll  gain  a  quarter." 

On  the  instant  they  wheeled  and  went 
266 


AT    THE    BLAST    OF    A    BUGLE 

recklessly  at  the  woods,  bending  low  among 
the  branches,  which  smote  them  like  claws 
and  threatened  to  dislodge  them  from  their 
horses.  Their  pace  here  was  of  necessity  a 
walk,  and  their  way  was  beset  with  difficulties, 
but  desperately,  gallantly,  they  threshed  for 
ward.  The  timber-belt  was  scarcely  half  a 
mile  in  width,  but  to  Billy  it  had  all  the 
dimensions  of  a  jungle.  Eventually,  how 
ever,  after  what  seemed  to  him  an  intermin 
able  battle  with  the  brush,  they  emerged  again 
into  the  white  light  of  the  plain  and  wheeled 
tranquilly  northward. 

Behind  them,  as  before,  came  a  persistent, 
courageous  band,  but  it  was  now  a  thin,  strag 
gling  column  stretching  rearward  for  a  mile. 
It  was  apparent  that  this  section  of  the  flying 
line  had  met  with  some  obstacle — an  inop 
portune  canon  or  unexpected  timber-strip, 
and  this  was  the  difficulty  which  Butternut's 
familiarity  with  the  landscape  had  enabled 
him  to  avoid. 

In  consequence  of  the  advantage  now 
gained  Billy  and  the  Lambkin  discovered 
presently  that  they  were  leading  the  race,  and 
they  grew  tremendously  elated.  Their  feel- 

267 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

ings  even  left  them  of  a  mind  for  idle  conver 
sation.  Butternut,  turning  casually  in  the 
saddle,  made  careless  reference  to  the  rider 
nearest  them. 

"  She  rides  handsome,  but  she's  plum 
played  out,  and  I'm  afraid  she's  killin'  her 
hawss " 

Billy  went  erect  as  a  spike. 

"  A  woman!  "  he  cried.  He  wheeled  his 
glance  to  the  rear,  to  discover  the  folds  of  a 
gray  skirt  blowing  on  the  wind,  and  a  slen 
der  boot  in  a  narrow  stirrup.  A  moment  his 
gaze  comprehended  nothing  more,  but  di 
rectly  he  observed  the  full,  graceful  figure 
of  the  rider.  She  was  a  young  woman,  and 
as  she  leaned  lithely  over  the  neck  of  her 
mount  he  saw  that  her  face  was  round  and 
fair  to  look  upon.  Her  head  was  bare  of  all 
covering,  a  large  cattleman's  hat  swinging  by 
a  string  from  her  throat.  There  was  a  look 
of  wild  hunger,  of  despairing  eagerness  in 
her  face,  though  her  eyes,  expressionless,  were 
as  if  stone  blind. 

"God!"  cried  Billy.  He  whirled  furi 
ously  on  the  cowboy.  "  She's  falling!  She'll 
drop  in  the  next  mile! " 

268 


AT    THE    BLAST    OF   A    BUGLE 

The  Lambkin's  response,  save  in  volume, 
was  a  drawl: 

"  William,  I  reckon  she  will;  but  it  would 
hurt  her  feelin's  to  stop  her.  Maybe  she'll 
have  the  sense  to  halt " 

Abruptly  an  appalling  change  came  over 
him.  One  swift  instant  his  look  was  that  of  a 
man  whose  throat  is  caressed  by  an  appari 
tion — the  pallor  of  him  rivaling  the  death- 
white  on  the  face  of  the  woman — then  settled 
again,  serene,  implacable.  Bringing  his 
glance  forward  he  bestowed  unswerving  at 
tention  on  a  dim  line  of  timber  that  curved  in 
definitely  into  the  northwest. 

Billy  thereafter  found  himself  impetu 
ously  hurling  prophecies  at  an  entirely  feel- 
ingless  object.  His  references  to  the  woman 
might  with  the  same  efficacy  have  been  ad 
dressed  to  a  tree,  to  a  hill,  or  to  space.  He 
grew  stupefied  at  this  utter  defiance  of  tradi 
tion,  this  sovereign  contempt  for  an  opportu 
nity  for  gallantry,  unprecedented  even  in 
romance.  Here  was  an  insult  to  the  teachings 
of  his  childhood,  a  brutal  violation  of  all 
lovely  legends.  Thrice  he  wheeled  his  gaze 
about  and,  meeting  the  glaze  of  the  fair 

269 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

rider's  eyes,  underwent  a  spasm  of  distress. 
The  spectacle  commanded  the  entire  respect 
of  his  mind,  grasping  vise-like  the  sympathies 
of  his  humane  instincts.  He  whirled  another 
ferocious  look  at  Butternut,  whose  gaze  still 
studied  the  crawling  line  of  timber. 

"  If  I'd  any  doubt  of  her  bein'  down " 

The  cowboy  uttered  a  shrill,  wild  yell,  as 
a  man  who  throws  aside  a  large  amount  of 
forbearance.  Sweeping  out  a  dexterous  arm 
he  seized  the  tenderfoot's  shoulder,  and,  bend 
ing,  screamed  with  an  oath  into  the  teeth  of 
the  other: 

"  Button  your  wind  and  your  chickenness! 
Don't  be  a  damned  fool! " 


270 


CHAPTER   XIX 

BILLY    IS    GALLANT 

WITH  his  second  backward  glance  the 
Lambkin  had  recognized  the  Whippoorwill. 
But  he  had  become  hardened.  Long  and 
repeated  days  of  bitterness  seemed  finally  to 
have  incased  his  bleeding  heart  in  a  shell, 
just  as  flesh  long  persecuted  becomes  insen 
sible  to  pain.  This  piteous  depth  of  his  mis 
ery  could  not  have  been  better  shown  than 
by  the  fact  that  he  now,  though  at  first  dis 
posed  to  adopt  a  harsh  mood  toward  the 
tenderfoot,  discovered  eventually,  in  the  light 
of  his  experience,  a  certain  ironical  humor 
in  the  latter's  behavior.  Men  frequently 
laugh  loudest  when  most  desperate,  so  the 
Lambkin  began  to  offer  advice  to  Billy  in  the 
tones  of  one  who  has  a  tremendous  joke  in 
mind. 

"  Come  to  think  of  it,  William,  you  had 
better  halt  her  right  off.  It'll  be  kind  of  a 

271 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

shame  to  lose  your  lead,  but  you'll  get  your 
reward.  I'll  gamble  she  hasn't  forgot  how 
to  smile,  and  nobody  could  ask  more'n  that!  " 

Billy  was  inclined  to  seize  him  and  make 
a  strong  effort  to  sweep  him  from  the  saddle. 

"  You  know  her?  " 

"  Aw,  yes."  The  Lambkin  made  an  elo 
quent  flourish  toward  the  south.  "  We  are 
quite  old  friends.  Met  her  down  in  Texas, 
at  a  '  function J  in  the  city  o'  Whitewater. 
She  was  queen  o'  the  occasion — the  fairy  o' 
the  flock."  His  voice  had  the  tone  of  foul 
medicine  as  he  thought  of  a  Girl  from  Mis 
souri,  "  They  called  her  the  Whip'will  down 
there,  and  there  was  a  fiddle  and  plenty  o' 
whisky  where  she  held  forth." 

"Well?" 

"  Well!  There  was  plenty  o'  whisky 
there,  I  said,  and  to  see  the  inside  would  in 
no  way  remind  you  of  a  church.  There  was 
a  right  active  bar  at  one  end,  and  at  the  other 
a  stage  where  she  used  to  dazzle  the  boys 
from  over  the  range  when  she  sang  Annie 
Laurie  and  The  Last  Rose  o'  Summer.  But 
I  reckon  she  was  better  at  dancin'." 

Now  here  was  something  which,  to  But- 
272 


BILLY    IS    GALLANT 

ternut's  mind,  ought  to  have  staggered  a  stone> 
but  which  Billy  accepted  with  no  visible  dis 
tress.  On  the  contrary,  he  showed  a  supreme 
and  frozen  indifference,  an  imbecile  heedless- 
ness,  the  profound  calm  of  a  man  who  hears 
the  details  of  juvenile  campaigns.  The  Lamb 
kin  viewed  him  in  a  stupor,  helpless,  petrified, 
for  he  was  now  posing  on  a  moral  pin 
nacle  which  probably  he  would  never  have 
achieved  but  for  his  experience  with  the 
Whippoorwill.  This  in  accordance  with  the 
rule  that  when  a  woman  shows  a  man  that 
she  has  amused  herself  with  him  he  inevitably 
becomes  a  figure  of  mangled  purity,  an  out 
raged  saint,  while  her  character  as  infallibly 
assumes  the  hue  of  an  African  in  a  chimney. 

"  She  wasn't  always  bad,  I'll  allow,"  pur^ 
sued  the  senseless  Billy.  "  May  not  have  been 
her  fault  either.  Stress  of  fortune  and  cir 
cumstances " 

The  Lambkin  threw  his  gaze  to  the  clouds, 
overcome  by  this  excruciating  thrust.  Viv 
idly  he  recalled  the  numberless  occasions 
when,  debating  with  himself,  he  had  used 
this  same  magnanimous  argument. 

Immediately  he  lost  all  inclination  for 
273 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

further  words  with  Billy,  from  whom  he 
turned  pityingly,  but  as  at  this  instant  there 
came  a  cry  from  the  Whippoorwill,  he  im 
pulsively  glanced  again  in  her  direction. 
Her  steed  was  swaying,  certainly,  but  then 
she  would  doubtless  land  on  her  feet,  for,  he 
reflected,  she  was  a  woman  of  experience. 
Besides,  had  he  not  once  gone  out  of  his  way 
for  her  with  fearful  results? 

The  tenderfoot's  feelings,  however,  were 
different.  Not  having  the  Lambkin's  point 
of  view,  he  could  afford  to  be  more  humane. 
He  gave  a  shout  to  the  Whippoorwill,  and 
by  a  dexterous  and  quick  wheel  escaped  the 
clutch  of  his  comrade.  He  was  even  in  time 
to  catch  the  reins  of  the  woman's  mount,  but 
was  too  late  to  avert  the  disaster.  The  stag 
gering  horse  went  sprawling  on  the  plain,  and 
his  hapless  rider  was  thrown  bowling  into  a 
heap,  limp  and  unconscious.  Butternut,  look 
ing  straight  ahead,  failed  to  observe  the  mis 
hap.  Immediately  Billy  was  clear  of  the  stir 
rups  and  bending  over  her,  while  the  voice 
of  the  heedless  cowboy  reached  him  in  a  jum 
ble  of  imprecation  and  song. 


274 


CHAPTER   XX 

"IF  I  WERE  GOING  TO  BE  HANGED!" 

FOR  a  distance  the  Lambkin  rode  amid 
deep  woe,  swearing  and  larruping  his  legs  in 
the  stirrups.  Billy  had  betrayed  him.  Billy 
had  used  his  feelings  in  the  shabbiest  possible 
manner.  Billy  was  worse  than  a  criminal. 
The  Lambkin's  voice  went  out  in  a  long 
groan.  It  was  not  unnatural  that  he  should 
fail  to  see  that  even  if,  as  he  believed,  the 
Whippoorwill  was  in  no  great  danger,  Billy 
had  done  a  gallant  thing — that  the  anguish 
he  had  endured  because  of  this  woman  should 
so  cloud  his  perception  as  to  show  him 
Billy  merely  as  a  copy  of  himself — an  in 
fatuated  fool.  He  made  desperate  effort 
to  discover  a  measure  for  the  tenderfoot's 
offense,  but  was  wofully  inadequate  to  the 
task.  The  entire  length  and  breadth  of  his 
experience  failed  to  provide  a  precedent 
for  this  appalling  crime.  He  could  only 
gather  in  his  mind  a  volley  of  deepest  cal- 

275 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

umny  and  hurl  it  with  ferocity  at  the  inno 
cent  Billy.  He  then  discovered  it  a  relieving 
process  to  include  all  mankind  in  his  denun 
ciations.  The  sudden  spectacle  of  the  Whip- 
poorwill,  appearing  in  his  wake  like  a  for 
gotten  ghost,  had  thrown  him  into  a  kind  of 
frenzy.  He  had  finally  surrendered  himself 
to  the  question  of  why  individuals  so  pathet 
ically  helpless  as  Billy  and  himself  were 
permitted  at  large,  when  a  sudden  obstruction 
in  his  path  surprised  him. 

At  the  top  of  a  rise  he  found  himself  on 
the  point  of  colliding  with  a  man  in  a  drab 
ulster  who,  in  the  company  of  a  saffron  mule, 
had  come  to  a  halt  at  the  foot  of  the  slope 
beyond.  Both  were  in  an  attitude  of  absolute 
rest,  the  man  standing  carelessly,  his  weight 
on  one  leg  and  a  guarding  hand  on  his  steed's 
neck.  Between  the  pair  and  Butternut  the 
distance  was  scarcely  ten  yards,  but  the  Lamb 
kin  had  not  the  time  to  lift  his  voice  before 
the  tail  of  the  ulster  went  like  a  curtain  in 
the  air,  the  graceless  little  legs  beneath  it 
spread  and  closed  with  the  action  of  a  patent 
clothes-pin,  and  man  and  beast  went  north 
ward  with  stupefying  velocity. 

276 


"IF    I   WERE   TO    BE    HANGED" 

"  By  the  Jumpin'  Jack-rabbits!"  gasped 
Butternut,  as  he  swept  over  the  spot  they 
had  occupied,  and,  looking  after  them,  saw 
that  he  was  being  regarded  humorously  by 
the  drab  ulster,  who  now  wafted  off  into 
song: 

"Oh,  some  like  a  hoss  hoof — a  mule  hoof  is  better  ; 
Give  me  my  Moll's  hoof  in  all  sorts  o'  weather." 

The  singer  slowed  his  pace  until  Butter 
nut  was  enabled  to  ride  abreast  of  a  little 
spare  man,  with  a  stubby,  straw-colored  beard 
and  small,  brown  eyes  that  squinted  merrily 
in  all  directions.  His  face  was  tanned  to  the 
tone  of  new  leather,  and  his  thin,  long  nose 
had  the  curve  of  a  beak,  the  sides  of  which 
seemed  to  slope  far  back  into  the  shadow  of 
his  cheeks.  His  hair  was  of  a  troubled  gray, 
though  he  wore  perpetually  the  smile  of  a 
clown.  It  was  his  wonderful  steed,  however, 
which  drew  most  of  the  Lambkin's  attention. 
In  deep  amazement  he  contemplated  the 
homely  animal  whose  ungainly  limbs  were 
such  a  revelation. 

"  By  the  last  hair  of  a  tarant'ler,  stranger, 
youVe  got  a  swift  beast!  " 

277 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

The  ulster  grinned  more  and  more  ex 
pansively,  tilting  the  beak  skyward,  and 
finally  exploded  a  sort  of  three-cornered 
cackle  which  exposed  a  staggering  row  of 
front  teeth. 

"  By  the  virtue  of  oP  Moll's  hoof,  sonny, 
ye  air  kerreck!  Thah's  nothin'  so  speedy  as 
thet  same  mare  mule!"  He  lifted  a  proud 
hand  and  feelingly  smote  the  brute's  neck. 
"  She's  the  winged  witch  o'  the  prairies,  is 
Moll,  and  ye  kin  taberlate  thet  on  yer  tomb 
stone!  " 

At  a  rapid,  regular  pace  they  went, 
leaning  now  toward  the  northwest.  From 
time  to  time  a  startled  jack-rabbit  leaped  into 
view  and  raced  for  the  woods,  while  period 
ically  from  the  bunch-grass  flashed  the  great 
grasshoppers  with  warlike  rattle. 

The  Lambkin  presently  felt  constrained 
to  mention  a  part  of  his  woes  to  his  compan 
ion.  The  fellowship  of  two  men  with  a  com 
mon  interest,  galloping  abreast  for  a  certain 
time,  impelled  him  to  a  kind  of  confidence. 
Besides,  he  felt  no  small  desire  to  expose 
Billy,  which,  though  a  tame  revenge,  was  the 
fiercest  in  his  reach.  Accordingly,  as  they 

278 


"IF    I    WERE    TO    BE    HANGED " 

sped  over  the  next  rise,  he  rode  closer  to  the 
Moll  mule. 

"  I  lost  a  mighty  good  pard  in  the  shuffle," 
he  observed,  carelessly. 

"  ShoM  Ye  don't  say!  "  The  mule  was 
the  recipient  of  an  affectionate  blow  in  the 
flank.  "  No  kind  of  a  hawss,  hey?  Sarved 
him  right.  Where'd  ye  leave  him?  " 

"  About  a  mile  back,  I  judge;  but  he  had 
a  good  hawss." 

The  ulster's  curiosity  here  drew  him  erect 
in  a  manner  quite  satisfactory  to  the  Lambkin. 

"Huh!    What  laid  him  out?  " 

"  Petticoats!  "  cried  the  cowboy,  bitterly; 
"  a  song-and-dance  favorite,  and  a  maid  of 
right  lovely  ways.  She's  a  capital  judge  o' 
whisky  and  can  ( **ock '  the  cards  with  her 
eyes  shut.  Her  hawss,  you  see,  was  played 
out,  and  he  stopped  to  give  her  a  lift.  I 
reckon  she's  got  his  hawss  by  this  time." 

"  Yaas?    That  was  powerful  perlite." 

"  Oh,  it  was  very  fine,  but  she'll  give  him 
trouble,  for  she's  a  poison  bad  lot.  She'll 
make  him  love  her  for  a  sufferin'  angel  be 
fore  she  gets  through — but,  by  God!"  he 
broke  off  piteously,  for  always  in  his  heart 

279 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

was  a  Girl  from  Missouri,  "  I  know  her  for 
a  screechin'  centipede!  " 

"  Aw,  now,  me  son — sof'ly!  We  don't 
want  to  be  ha'ash.  Mebbe  it  warn't  so  much 
her  doin's.  Circumstances  could  'a'  played  a 
big  hand " 

Butternut  felt  as  if  he  had  been  struck 
a  violent  blow  in  the  face.  He  uttered  a 
groan  in  the  despairing  tone  of  one  who  has 
lost  all  faith  in  his  kind,  and  at  once  swerved 
at  a  wide  distance  from  the  ulster,  regarding 
him  thereafter  with  monumental  contempt. 
He  became  a  forlorn  horseman  journeying 
hopelessly  over  the  monotonous  levels  of  the 
plain.  Did  no  one  have  the  sense  to  under 
stand?  He  swore  roundly  at  mankind,  espe 
cially  at  Billy,  more  particularly  at  the 
Whippoorwill.  For  her  his  loathing  was 
immeasurable,  she  being  the  foul  germ  to 
which  all  these  ills,  these  agonies,  could  be 
traced.  As  her  countless  tricks  and  wiles 
flashed  unclad  before  him,  he  wondered  for 
the  hundredth  time  why  she  had  previously 
in  no  way  impressed  him  as  a  strategist.  Blind 
indeed  must  he  have  been,  and  above  all  was  it 
piteously  ironical  to  recall  that  her  chief  bat- 

280 


"IF    I    WERE    TO    BE    HANGED J> 

tery  had  been  pathos.  As  he  had  once  assured 
McCormick,  she  was  a  "  hummer  "  on  pathos. 
If  he  had  had  doubting  moments  before, 
he  was  now  certain  that  his  regard  for  this 
woman  was  the  same  as  he  should  feel  for  a 
slough  of  reptiles,  a  swarm  of  tarantulas. 
His  thoughts  upon  her  were  beyond  all 
speech,  though  a  dim  expression  of  them 
might  be: 

"  — If  I  were  going  to  be  hanged,  and 
were  called  upon  to  name  the  crowning 
pity  of  the  world,  it  would  be  that  some 
women  are  not  born  in  their  proper  shape. 
Belonging  to  the  creatures  that  crawl,  yet 
they  walk  and  smile  as  women,  and  so  de 
ceive  man  into  thinking  them  of  consequence, 
only  to  take  him  and  delicately  drown  him 
in  a  sea  of  despair,  of  shame " 

Something  of  the  tenor  of  this  speech 
seemed  beating  in  his  head  like  an  automatic 
hammer  timed  to  the  regular  strokes  of  his 
horse's  hoofs. 

Eventually,  in  a  feverish  effort  at  diver 
sion,  he  began  giving  a  sort  of  attention  to 
objects  along  the  way.  Once  when  an  ad 
venturous  wolf  rounded  the  base  of  a  knoll 
w  281 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

to  his  left,  he  mechanically  leveled  his  six- 
shooter  in  that  direction.  The  action  was  so 
free  from  interest  that  he  nonchalantly  closed 
both  eyes  with  the  discharge  of  the  weapon 
and  rode  onward  without  troubling  to  note 
the  effect  of  the  shot.  From  time  to  time,  as 
the  recollection  of  late  events  came  over  him, 
he  would  grind  his  teeth  in  deepest  woe,  and, 
gazing  in  a  helpless  way  at  space,  breathe  out 
appealingly: 

"Oh,  hell!" 

And  again  the  hammer  in  his  head  and 
the  rhythmic  hoof-strokes,  saying: 

"  — If  I  were  going  to  be  hanged " 


282 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THE  LAMBKIN  SEES  HUMOR 

THE  tops  of  the  cottonwoods  swung  in 
sympathy  together  above  a  winding  tunnel  of 
shadows.  Here  was  a  wilderness  of  green  in 
terlacing  branches  through  which  the  stream 
of  Moccasin  flowed  leisurely,  with  frequent 
and  picturesque  bend  and  turn. 

Butternut,  following  an  abandoned  cattle- 
trail,  rode  briskly  to  the  ford.  Allowing  his 
"  blown  "  roan  a  single  cautious  swallow,  he 
haltered  the  animal  to  a  sapling,  and  pro 
ceeded  at  once  to  select  a  site  for  his  tent; 
for  here  was  the  section  on  which  he  chose 
to  "  stake  his  claim."  However,  as  a  half- 
drowned  person  loses  the  desire  to  keep  afloat, 
so  a  horseman  sorely  jaded  is  slow  to  journey 
afoot.  The  Lambkin  had  proceeded  not  a 
dozen  yards  before  his  limbs  became  as  un 
certain  of  movement  as  those  of  a  drowsy  cub, 
and,  tired  and  saddle-sore,  he  sat  down  to  rest. 

283 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Confusedly  in  his  mind  was  the  spectacle  of 
mad  horsemen  sweeping  the  southward  plain, 
while  keen  and  distinct  was  his  vision  of  the 
Whippoorwill  and  Billy.  "  William,  Will 
iam,"  he  muttered,  and  his  voice  was  hope 
less.  He  thought  but  once  of  the  drab  ulster, 
who  had  left  his  company  about  half  a  mile 
back,  his  last  remark  to  Butternut  having  been 
some  indistinct  reference  to  the  virtues  of  the 
Moll  mule. 

After  a  short  period  of  inaction  the  cow 
boy  rose  and  resumed  his  detour,  viewing  the 
landmarks  of  the  bottom  as  one  who  beholds 
a  familiar  locality;  for  the  directions  of  the 
friend  of  the  horse-market  had  been  most 
minute.  There  was  the  old  half-burned 
stump  he  had  pointed  out  on  his  chart,  over 
there  by  the  blazed  mesquit,  and  there,  too, 
by  the  edge  of  the  creek,  lay  the  monstrous 
log  he  had  mentioned,  a  great  hollow  extend 
ing  from  end  to  end  and  leaving  it  but  a  shell. 
This  log  had  been  especially  impressed  on 
the  horse-dealer's  mind  because  once  on  a 
hunt,  when  it  had  rained,  he  had  crawled 
into  it  to  escape  the  wet. 

Butternut  advanced  and  peered  skeptic- 
284 


THE    LAMBKIN    SEES    HUMOR 

ally  into  the  mouth  of  the  log.  "  He  must 
have  shrunk  considerably  to  have  got  in 
there,"  he  mused,  whimsically.  "  I  don't  be 
lieve  it  would  fit  me"  A  sudden  desire  to 
settle  the  point  smote  him,  and  impulsively 
he  thrust  his  entire  body,  feet  foremost,  into 
the  hollow,  and — there  followed  a  period  in 
which  he  deeply  and  tranquilly  slept. 

He  was  disturbed  abruptly  by  a  partial 
revolution  of  the  log  causing  him  to  perform 
a  like  movement.  He  made  a  wild  effort  to 
support  himself,  but  had  barely  recovered  his 
balance  before  another  spasmodic  rolling 
threw  him  into  his  previous  position.  He 
was  on  the  point  of  shouting  when  a  heavy 
voice  rose  at  one  end  of  the  log : 

"  I  reckon  it's  a  pious  idee,  (  Hicksy  M  " 

The  remark  was  evidently  in  approval  of 
a  suggestion  by  another  party,  who  now  spoke 
at  the  opposite  end: 

"  Bet  it  is,  Bartle.  It  ain't  the  thing  to 
erect  a  bang-up  shanty  V  thar'by  draw 
s'picion.  We  don't  want  any  spec'latin'  es 
to  how  we  found  time  to  h'ist  anything 
'laborate." 

The   voices   were   a   study   in   villainous 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

accent.  The  retired  Lambkin  grinned  in 
glee.  Here  was  a  situation  in  which  he  saw 
nothing  but  humor.  The  speech  of  the  men 
had  at  once  stamped  them  as  "  sooners,"*  and 
it  was  also  to  be  gathered  from  their  language 
that  the  log  was  intended  to  serve  as  a  factor 
in  their  dwelling,  then  in  course  of  con 
struction.  The  cowboy,  however,  had  heard 
enough  to  understand  that  it  would  be  a  seri 
ous  matter  if  he  were  discovered,  and  on  the 
heels  of  this  reflection  came  the  remembrance 
that  at  a  previous  time  that  afternoon  he  had 
discharged  a  chamber  of  his  six-shooter  at 
a  particularly  unimportant  and  inoffensive 
wolf.  It  occurred  to  him  now  that  no  object 
could  have  been  of  less  consequence  than  this 
animal,  and  at  the  same  time  the  chamber  in 
question  reached  a  sudden  high  value  in  his 
mind.  His  hand  instinctively  sought  his  hip, 
but  the  movement  was  difficult  owing  to  the 
limited  room  at  his  command  and  the  log's 
revolutions  requiring  him  to  make  a  shield 
ing  brace  of  his  elbows;  however,  by  the  play 

*  At  the  time  of  this  event  there  were  numerous  persons  who  sought  a 
short  route  to  prosperity  by  evading  the  vigilantes  and  placing  themselves 
across  the  line  in  advance  of  the  legal  date.  Such  parties  were  known  as 
"  sooners," 

286 


THE    LAMBKIN    SEES    HUMOR 

of  his  forearms  alone  he  succeeded  in  reach 
ing  the  weapon  and  in  replacing  the  wasted 
charge. 

By  the  time  this  was  accomplished  the 
"  sooners  "  had  got  the  log  into  a  locality  satis 
factory  to  them,  and  the  cowboy  thereafter 
enjoyed  the  luxury  of  having  his  attitude  of 
repose  undisturbed.  He  lay  comfortably 
then  on  his  stomach,  and  having  brought  his 
weapon  forward,  trained  its  muzzle  carelessly 
on  the  mouth  of  the  log.  Through  the  round 
opening  he  saw  that  the  approach  of  night 
was  rapidly  filling  the  bottom  with  shadows, 
and  presently  some  crackling  brush  told  him 
that  the  "  sooners "  had  started  a  blaze. 
Doubtless  this  was  with  a  view  to  preparing 
their  evening  meal,  and  again  did  the  confi 
dent  proceedings  of  the  ruffians  cause  the 
Lambkin  to  smile.  Soon  the  pleasing  aroma 
of  steaming  coffee  was  floating  in  to  him. 
The  fire  was  burning  a  few  yards  from  the 
end  of  the  log,  at  a  point  almost  in  line  with 
his  vision,  and  as  the  flames  brightened  with 
the  darkness,  their  light  flickered  along  the 
interior  of  his  retreat  to  within  three  inches  of 
his  arm.  By  twisting  his  head  as  far  to  one 

287 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

side  as  his  narrow  quarters  would  permit  he 
could  include  a  section  of  the  fire  in  his  view, 
and  was  enabled  to  see  a  fragmentary  leg  and 
arm  silhouetted  against  the  flames.  He  was 
considering  the  possible  effect  of  a  random 
shot  at  the  coffee-pail,  squatting  clear  in  his 
sight,  when  an  incident,  sudden  and  startling, 
brought  commotion  in  the  camp.  A  pair  of 
graceless  legs  and  the  tail  of  a  drab  ulster 
passed  rapidly  between  him  and  the  firelight, 
and  accompanying  the  movement  a  familiar 
twanging  voice  smote  his  ears : 

"  By  the  sonorous  whisper  o'  my  Moll 
mule,  gen'l'men,  I'm  rejoiced  to  meet  ye! 
Don't  rise,  I  implore  ye!  " 

Both  "  Hicksy "  and  Bartle  had  leaped 
up,  each  with  a  hand  on  a  weapon,  but  the 
visitor,  with  a  sweeping  flourish,  besought 
them  not  to  be  disturbed. 

"  It  would  pain  me  deeply,  genTmen,  to 
feel  that  I  wah  troublin'  ye.  Hev  ye  seen 
anything  of  a  yaller  mule  named  Moll?" 

At  once  the  manner  of  the  "  sooners  "  was 
most  hospitable.  The  stranger  having  made 
no  show  of  war,  his  soft,  clangorous  voice 
rising  only  in  a  note  of  gentle  inquiry,  the 

288 


THE    LAMBKIN    SEES    HUMOR 

relief  they  experienced  inclined  them  to  a 
show  of  great  cordiality. 

"  Stranger,"  said  Mr.  Bartle,  "  we've  seen 
neither  hide  ner  hoof  o'  the  animal  ye're 
lookin'  fer,  but  weVe  got  some  spankin'  good 
coffee  hyer,  if  ye  care  to  sample  et." 

"You  bet,"  supported  Mr.  Hicks;  "  and 
I  jedge  our  hawg  meat  ain't  the  worst  in 
Oklahomer.  Ye'll  hev  to  jine  us  in  a  bite 
er  two." 

The  newcomer  made  a  most  deprecating 
motion. 

"  Yer  hospitality,  genTmen,  touches  me, 
but  I  couldn't  think  o'  puttin'  ye  out." 

Nevertheless,  after  some  further  insisting 
by  the  "  sooners,"  and  a  proper  amount  of  hes 
itancy,  the  visitor  finally  arranged  his  figure 
in  a  sociable  sprawl  by  the  fire,  from  which 
position,  during  the  remaining  preparations 
for  supper,  he  entertained  his  hosts  by  a  hu 
morous  account  of  the  tribulations  which  had 
oppressed  him  through  the  ownership  of  a 
certain  mule.  From  time  to  time  he  inter 
rupted  himself  to  laugh  long  and  boister 
ously,  and  in  each  instance  Mr.  Bartle  and 
Mr.  Hicks,  catching  his  hilarity,  would  join 

289 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

in.  He  had  a  wonderful  fund  of  anecdote, 
and  it  flowed  in  a  copious  stream  until  sup 
per  was  announced.  Even  then,  during  the 
progress  of  the  meal,  his  tongue  wagged  on 
at  a  lively  rate. 

"  GenTmen,"  he  observed,  glancing  quiz 
zically  around  through  the  gathering  dusk, 
"  you've  struck  a  right  valuable  claim  hyer, 
hain't  ye?  'Bout  the  choicest  quarter-section 
in  the  whole  Territory,  this  is.  Runnin'  wa 
ter  on  two  sides,  and  every  acre,  'cept  the 
creek  bottoms,  the  richest  prairie  land,  to  say 
nothin'  of  her  adj'inin'  the  county-seat.  Coin' 
to  work  her  j'intly,  I  s'pose?  " 

Mr.  Bartle  gave  his  comrade  a  swift, 
sagacious  glance. 

"  Why,  ye  see,"  said  Hicks,  "  we  had  fig 
ured  that  as  the  best  plan,  seein'  as  it  takes 
two  to  hold  a  claim  these  stirrin'  times,  once 
ye  git  it.  While  one  is  hustlin'  supplies1  fer 
instance,  t'other  kin  stay  an'  hold  the  title. 
It  saves  a  lot  of  argymint." 

"  Exactly,"  returned  the  ulster,  chuckling. 
"  I  appreciate  the  p'int,  fer  it's  the  identical 
old  idee  I  had  in  mind;  but  knowin'  t'other 
feller  wouldn't  see  the  advantage  of  it,  I  re- 

290 


THE    LAMBKIN    SEES    HUMOR 

frained  from  presentin'  my  plan.  I  had  jest 
lit  on  an  elegant  quarter-section,  right  here 
in  your  neighborhood,  when  a  wild-eyed  son- 
of-a-gun  come  gallavantin'  down  on  me  like 
a  rory-bory- Alice,  and  persuaded  me  to  retire. 
As  I  had  no  steed  in  sight  to  prove  thet  I'd 
rid  thar,  he  called  me  a  '  sooner '  and  insinu 
ated  thet  I'd  been  campin'  thar  fer  weeks. 
Then  he  p'inted  a  pair  o'  '  sixes '  at  me  with 
both  hands,  and  'lowed  I'd  find  it  a  good  deal 
healthier  on  the  adj'inin'  section.  I  was  so 
incensed,  gen'l'men,  at  his  discourtesy  thet 
after  framin'  a  proposition  o'  partnership  in 
my  mind,  I  disdained  to  honor  him  with  it. 
And  all  owin'  to  the  absence  of  a  condemned, 
ornery,  saw-toothed,  punkin'  yaller  mule!" 

The  three  of  them  again  laughed  long  and 
unrestrainedly,  the  "  sooners  "  thinking  here 
was  a  man  of  their  class,  and  at  the  close  of 
their  outburst  Mr.  Hicks,  leaning  toward  the 
ulster,  said,  meaningly,  while  he  beamed 
with  good  humor: 

"  I'd  hate,  stranger,  to  lay  a  good  deal 
thet  you  ever  had  a  mule!  " 

The  visitor  at  once  assumed  a  most  in 
jured  look,  which,  however,  only  served  to 

291 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

increase  the  hilarity  of  the  "  sooners."  They 
were  very  shrewd. 

To  the  cowboy,  resting  comfortably  in  the 
log,  within  three  yards  of  this  interesting 
group,  the  ulster,  who  he  knew  did  own  a 
mule,  presented  a  problem  in  character  too 
intricate  for  solution.  He  accordingly  turned 
his  entire  thought  to  the  men  Bartle  and 
Hicks,  who  it  was  plain  were  two  of  a  brand. 
To  them  he  could  no  longer  forego  the  satis 
faction  of  announcing  himself.  Abruptly, 
therefore,  at  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  he 
drew  his  entire  body  out  into  the  glare  of  the 
fire,  and  turned  the  muzzle  of  his  weapon 
carelessly  toward  the  "  sooners." 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  serenely,  "  I  own 
this  land!" 


292 


CHAPTER   XXII 

A    FEW    HOSTILITIES 

IT  did  not  occur  to  him  to  accompany  the 
remark  by  a  definite  aiming  of  his  weapon, 
which,  therefore,  was  pointed  at  neither  ruf 
fian  in  particular,  but  wavered  in  a  manner 
to  cover  first  one,  then  the  other  of  the  pair. 
Immediately  he  had  cause  to  deplore  this 
negligence.  The  commotion  produced  by  his 
appearance,  while  exactly  what  he  had  ex 
pected,  was  yet  so  sudden  and  violent  as  to 
bewilder  him.  He  remembered  firing  twice 
at  a  gigantic  bounding  object  which  seemed 
to  approach  him  in  a  succession  of  hand 
springs  and  which  developed  on  closer  ac 
quaintance  into  the  person  of  Mr.  Bartle, 
who,  with  a  yell  of  pain  at  his  second  shot, 
fell  furiously  upon  him.  The  fashion  of  his 
hold  left  it  impossible  for  Butternut  to  make 
further  use  of  his  weapon,  and  the  cowboy 
at  once  understood  that  he  was  called  upon 

293 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

to  make  the  best  of  an  awkward  transaction, 
while  at  the  same  time  his  uppermost  sensation 
was  a  keen  delight  in  the  effect  of  his  second 
bullet,  which  he  knew  had  lodged  somewhere 
in  the  person  of  his  foe.  However,  he  real 
ized  that  all  exertions  now  possible  on  his 
part  must  be  of  brief  enaction,  since  few  mo 
ments  could  elapse  before  his  adversary  would 
receive  the  support  of  his  comrade.  Accord 
ingly,  in  the  close  embrace  of  Mr.  Bartle,  he 
went  desperately  over  the  earth  in  a  series  of 
quick  revolutions.  But  despite  his  preoccu 
pation,  there  was  time  for  amazement  when, 
being  thrown  suddenly  into  a  position  which 
brought  his  glance  in  the  direction  of  the  fire, 
he  observed  there  a  remarkable  performance 
in  progress.  Mr.  Hicks,  in  the  act  of  spring 
ing  to  the  relief  of  his  comrade,  was  suddenly 
seized  by  the  drab  ulster  and  borne  violently 
backward  to  the  earth,  while  in  the  same  in 
stant  the  air  seemed  filled  with  the  jangle  of 
two  voices,  one  uttering  oaths  of  bitterest 
quality,  the  other  making  vehement  reference 
to  a  certain  mare  mule.  The  astonished  cow 
boy  next  observed,  when  this  separate  en 
counter  had  attained  its  fiercest  height,  the 

294 


A    FEW    HOSTILITIES 

sudden  glimmer  of  firelight  on  steel,  which 
was  followed  by  the  click  of  snapping  metal, 
and  as  the  intertwined  figures  rose  upright  he 
saw  that  the  wrists  of  the  ulster's  adversary 
were  secured  by  handcuffs.  But  the  gyra 
tions  of  the  ulster  by  no  means  ceased  at  this 
point.  Addressing  a  low  remark  into  the  ear 
of  Mr.  Hicks,  which  had  the  effect  of  caus 
ing  the  ruffian  to  remain  inactive,  he  waltzed 
over  to  Bartle,  whose  wound  seemed  to  have 
endowed  him  with  a  fury  which  gave  him 
strength.  The  Lambkin  was  expending  a 
gallant  final  effort  when  he  felt  his  assailant 
wrenched  clear  of  him  with  a  violence  which 
sent  his  own  body  spinning.  He  fell  in  an 
exhausted  heap,  and  lay  for  some  moments 
stupefied,  then  rising  confusedly  on  his  elbow 
he  saw  that  the  ulster  had  both  men  in  charge, 
and  with  a  knife  and  some  strips  of  cloth  in 
hand  was  giving  surgical  attention  to  the  in 
jured  Bartle.  In  the  flare  of  the  firelight  the 
three  figures  bore  the  aspect  of  shadows,  but 
their  attitudes  showed  the  Lambkin  clearly 
which  was  master  of  the  field.  The  hand  of 
the  bewildered  cowboy,  fumbling  over  the 
ground,  came  in  contact  with  his  revolver, 

295 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

and  he  grinned  in  a  foolish  fashion  as  he  re 
placed  the  weapon  at  his  hip.  Next  he  rose 
and  walked  sheepishly  into  the  firelight,  his 
hand  at  his  chin.  The  ulster  was  bending  at 
tentively  over  Mr.  Bartle's  arm,  while  hold 
ing  that  member  toward  the  light. 

"  Ye  swatted  him  in  the  muscle,  sonny," 
he  remarked,  imparting  a  final  touch  to  the 
rude  bandage,  "  so  I  reckon  it  ain't  fatal." 

Butternut  advanced  with  the  demeanor  of 
one  who  would  like  to  know  more  of  the 
circumstances,  but  the  air  of  the  little  old 
man  restrained  him.  There  was  something 
strangely  grim  and  commanding  about  the 
ulster  as,  having  concluded  his  "  operation," 
he  began  to  walk  back  and  forth  in  the  fire 
light,  swinging  a  weapon  with  his  stride  and 
keeping  an  unvarying  eye  on  his  prisoners. 

Meanwhile,  from  over  the  plain  and 
through  the  timber  of  the  bottom  came  the 
sounds  of  hoofs  and  men — noises  of  a  scat 
tered  throng.  Swiftly,  by  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  the  straggling  boomers  continued  to 
hammer  past.  Frequently  in  the  shadows 
rang  the  ax  of  an  energetic  squatter,  already 
begun  his  improvements,  while  farther  down 

296 


A    FEW    HOSTILITIES 

the  hollow,  in  accompaniment,  floated  scraps 
of  conversation  and  song.  Occasionally  a 
horseman,  battering  by  through  the  dusk, 
lifted  his  voice  in  a  winding,  nonchalant  yell, 
to  which  the  men  in  the  hollow  responded. 
In  the  tones  of  the  latter  there  was  a  note  of 
jubilance,  for  they  had  passed  the  crisis,  and 
now  the  whole  thing  was  to  them  a  celebra 
tion.  Periodically  the  cry  of  a  lone  wolf 
smote  the  night  afar,  as  though  in  protest  at 
these  signs  of  human  settlement,  while  always 
through  the  trees  the  melancholy  beat  of  hoofs 
on  the  plain  drummed  a  mournful  chorus. 

The  drab  ulster,  continuing  his  stride  up 
and  down  the  range  of  firelight,  from  time 
to  time  bent  his  ear  mysteriously  toward  the 
depths  of  the  woods. 

"  It's  the  shots,  sonny — yer  two  shots,"  he 
remarked  to  the  Lambkin.  "  It's  more'n 
likely  they'll  raise  a  row.  The  bottom's  alive 
with  '  sooners,'  and  I'm  afeard  we'll  hev  a 
neat  entertainment  gittin'  these  gentlemen  out 
o'  hyer."  He  indicated  the  two  glowering 
captives. 

Butternut  was  trying  to  decide  whether  he 

should  construe  these  words  as  a  rebuke,  when 
20 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

the  abrupt  splintering  of  brush  and  a  low  roar 
of  voices  told  of  advancing  men.  The  ulster 
instantly,  by  a  deft  movement  of  his  foot, 
struck  the  coffee-pail  and  sent  its  contents 
over  the  fire  in  a  manner  which  brought  dark 
ness  upon  the  camp.  He  governed  the  gesture 
so  nicely,  too,  as  to  be  thrown  by  its  impetus 
within  a  hand's  reach  of  his  prisoners,  and 
seizing  the  collar  of  one,  he  controlled  the 
other  by  a  significant  pressure  of  his  weapon, 
both  of  them  having  been  disarmed.  As  he 
then,  in  an  ominous  whisper,  which  Butternut 
overheard,  commanded  them  to  advance,  the 
Lambkin  brushed  the  arm  of  the  old  man, 
who,  chuckling  approval,  turned  the  wound 
ed  Bartle  over  to  his  care. 

Swiftly  and  with  caution  they  proceeded 
through  the  gloom  of  the  woods,  halting  pres 
ently  in  a  thicket  of  tangled  undergrowth. 
And  now,  abruptly,  in  the  camp  they  had  de 
serted  arose  a  sullen  wrangle  and  debate. 

"  Two  shots  V  a  yawp,"  said  one  voice. 

"  And  cusses,"  amended  another,  and  this 
so  increased  the  significance  that  it  had  an 
obvious  effect  upon  the  council.  There  fol 
lowed  a  hoarse  jumble  of  arguments. 

298 


A    FEW    HOSTILITIES 

Butternut,  retired  in  the  brush-tangle, 
grew  thoughtful  of  many  things  which  in  no 
wise  concerned  this  menacing  assembly.  It 
was  now  possible  for  him  to  regard  the  ulster 
as  other  than  a  riddle — he  was  clearly  an 
agent  of  the  Government;  but  there  were 
numerous  other  questions  to  distress  the 
Lambkin.  Where  was  his  gallant  horse, 
Roan  Rebel?  Where,  too,  was  the  famous 
Moll  mule?  Also  it  was  inevitable  that  his 
mind  should  wander  back  over  the  plain  to 
the  woman  episode.  Where  was  Billy — the 

erring,  the  hopeless  Billy?    And 

"  .  .  .  If  I  were  going  to  be  hanged " 

The  wrangle  in  the  shadows  deepened  in 
volume  until  it  was  clearly  a  thing  of  dire 
portentions.  At  intervals  an  oath  swung  aloft 
through  the  trees.  Butternut,  in  a  whisper, 
sought  certain  information  of  the  ulster,  who, 
listening,  measured  his  response  by  the  quali 
ties  of  the  tones  of  the  men. 

"  Do  you  think  they'll  show  their  teeth?  " 
"  Me  son,  the  indications  air  they  will. 
— Sof 'ly,  don't  ye  chirp !  " 

A  hoarse  noise  in  the  throat  of  Mr.  Hicks 
dying  suddenly  in  a  wrheeze,  Butternut  knew 

299 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

the  ulster's  fingers  had  interfered.  The  old 
man  made  tedious  effort  to  see  through  the 
gloom  of  the  underbrush,  and  took  a  fresh 
grip  on  his  weapon.  The  cowboy  patiently 
shifted  to  a  new  position  and  waited,  while 
the  howl  of  the  lone  wolf  struck  a  dismal 
note.  The  leaves  of  the  wilderness  whispered 
in  the  night  wind,  and  from  time  to  time  the 
man  in  the  ulster  referred  to  the  probabilities 
of  a  fight. 


300 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE  PASSING  OF  A  WHIPPOORWILL 

THE  light  of  the  moon,  swinging  low  over 
the  trees,  reached  the  undergrowth  in  few 
localities.  Here  and  there  it  appeared,  a 
luminous  fantasy  in  the  long  blending  shad 
ows,  and  these  resplendent  points  were  so 
occasional  as  merely  to  impart  a  new  and 
deeper  mystery  to  the  woods.  Generally  in 
all  quarters  the  gloom  was  as  heavy  as  blan 
kets,  but  it  required  no  eye  to  know  that  the 
hollow  was  inhabited.  A  determined,  omi 
nous  presence  was  revealed  in  the  jumble  and 
jar  of  men's  voices  in  rough  argument.  Be 
hind  a  prostrate  cottonwood  squatted  a  war 
like  row  of  figures  which  at  certain  points 
of  their  discussion  paused  to  bestow  attention 
upon  a  thicket  of  tangled  mesquit.  From 
this  thicket  came  a  silence  of  strange  power, 
in  that  the  more  intense  it  was  the  more  dread 
it  inspired.  The  man  at  the  end  of  the  log 
swore  cautiously  at  it. 

301 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  They're  in  thah,"  he  affirmed  to  his  com 
panions.  '*  We  know  they're  in  thah.  'N' 
they  dasn't  come  out!  " 

"  Same  as  we  dasn't  go  in,  l  Griggsy,'  v 
observed  the  third  man  from  him,  and  an 
approving  snicker  traveled  along  the  log. 
Griggsy's  scowl  was  unseen  in  the  darkness, 
but  his  tones  swelled  higher.  He  made  a 
slurring  allusion  to  the  humor  of  some  per 
sons,  and  pointing  his  revolver  indefinitely, 
sent  a  violent  report  bellowing  through  the 
trees.  The  succeeding  quiet  was  so  deep  that 
it  seemed  to  envelop  the  row  of  men  like  a 
substance.  The  shot,  though  its  origin  was 
palpable,  had  the  effect  of  suggesting  to  them 
an  invisible  and  menacing  presence.  There 
was  a  period  in  which  they  were  immovable 
and  would  have  felt  a  keen  terror  at  the  mak 
ing  of  a  sound.  Then  of  a  sudden  from  the 
depths  of  the  thicket  there  issued  two  flashes, 
each  the  precursor  of  a  bullet  which  clipped 
whistling  through  the  foliage,  and  the  next 
moment  to  no  one,  even  could  they  have  seen 
distinctly,  would  it  have  been  apparent  that 
there  was  a  man  behind  the  log.  By  a  com 
mon  impulse  they  had  collapsed  to  the  ground 

302 


PASSING  OF  A  WHIPPOORWILL 

like  paralytics.  From  the  wake  of  one  of  the 
responding  bullets  a  tiny,  lone  leaf  settled 
down  on  Griggsy's  hat.  He  was  disconcerted. 
This  sudden  discourteous  behavior  of  the  jun 
gle  impressed  him  somehow  as  a  phenomenon. 
He  seemed  amazed  at  a  demonstration  which 
he  had  exerted  his  best  energies  to  bring  about. 

"  Wull,  dam'  me,"  he  mumbled  in  his 
beard,  and  to  his  comrades  he  added,  in  the 
superior  tones  of  one  sustained  in  a  previous 
contention,  "  I  know'd  they  wuh  thah!" 

After  a  period  the  dull  voices  jumbled 
again,  and  the  man  at  the  end  of  the  log  swore 
afresh  at  the  silence  in  the  thicket.  Presently 
he  grew  profound.  As  the  general  in  com 
mand  it  devolved  upon  him  to  devise  some 
feasible  plan  of  attack.  So  he  wagged  his 
beard  reflectively,  and  at  length  decided  that 
the  happiest  course  would  be  to  make  a  cir 
cuit  of  the  enemy  with  most  of  his  force  and 
invade  the  jungle  from  behind.  Accordingly 
he  detailed  a  trusted  man  to  remain  stationed 
at  the  log,  and  with  the  others  proceeded  on 
a  strategic  movement  through  the  brush.  In 
line  with  their  plan,  the  trusted  man, 
during  this  maneuver,  fired  occasionally  at 

303 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

die  thicket  with  a  view  to  holding  its  atten 
tion.  His  aim,  however,  was  problematic,  as 
he  was  careful  only  in  keeping  his  scalp  be 
low  the  level  of  the  log. 

Griggsy  and  his  followers  moved  with  the 
noiselessness  of  apparitions,  despite  the  irreg 
ular  growth  of  the  bushes,  and  by  zigzagging 
discreetly  escaped  the  patches  of  moonlight. 
Twice  they  halted  to  whisper  their  under 
standing  of  the  plan,  while  they  gestured 
menacingly  toward  the  thicket. 

Meanwhile  the  ulster  and  the  Lambkin, 
unconscious  of  the  strategy  in  progress,  were 
returning  the  spattering  compliments  of  the 
man  behind  the  log. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  suddenly,  and 
from  a  quarter  entirely  new  to  all  parties  in 
this  discussion,  there  came  a  shot  which  pro 
duced  an  abrupt  and  terrific  commotion  in 
the  rear  of  the  thicket.  The  report  had 
scarcely  died  away  before  a  second  shot,  from 
the  same  independent  quarter,  renewed  the 
effect  of  the  first  bullet.  The  tearing  of  brush 
by  heavy  bodies,  blended  with  a  torrent  of 
vigorous  language,  told  that  Griggsy  and  his 
forces  were  being  assailed  by  a  foeman  in 

304 


PASSING  OF  A  WHIPPOORWILL 

ambush.  The  Lambkin  and  the  ulster,  at  once 
aware  of  the  presence  of  an  ally,  and  grasp 
ing  this  new  location  of  the  enemy,  wheeled 
and  began  a  systematic  fire  in  that  direction. 
There  were  sounds  thereafter  of  tumultuous 
disagreement. 

And  the  "  sooners  "  were  not  versed  in  bat 
tle.  If  any  of  them  could  recall  experiences 
wearing  the  glitter  of  war,  they  were  moments 
of  blare  and  bluster  when  no  really  fine  be 
havior  had  been  required.  In  consequence, 
these  feverish  ways  of  the  woods  filled  them 
with  a  consternation  they  could  not  suppress, 
but  which  was  in  no  way  apparent  from 
their  noise.  They  filled  the  night  with  mar 
velous  curses  and  yells.  The  woods  to  them 
were  aswarm  with  perils  most  sinister,  and, 
conceiving  a  moment  for  veterans,  they  ex 
pressed  their  valor  in  a  swift  stream  of  sound. 

But  a  battle  in  the  dark,  at  uncertain 
range,  with  bushes  in  plenty  to  intercept  the 
bullets,  and  the  forces  of  both  sides  hugging 
close  to  the  earth,  can  not  at  best  be  regarded 
as  a  very  hazardous  affair.  It  may  be  creative 
of  much  commotion  and  tremendous  noise, 
but  the  result  can  scarcely  be  such  as  a  man 

305 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

could  not  contemplate  with  a  calm  mind.  To 
a  person  actively  engaged  in  such  conflict, 
however,  it  is  naturally  of  a  huge,  grim  im 
port,  and  he  may  be  excused  if  he  regards  it 
as  a  crisis. 

For  some  time  an  apparently  terrific  bat 
tle  was  raging  in  the  woods.  The  drab  ulster 
alternately  shouted  and  sang  while  he  and 
the  Lambkin  fusiladed  the  bushes,  the  cries 
of  Griggsy  and  his  companions  at  moments 
drowned  the  voice  of  their  firearms,  the  un 
known  newcomer  from  his  retired  position  in 
the  shadows  occasionally  screamed  a  chal 
lenge.  But  when  it  was  over — when  the  ad 
vance  of  dawn  left  it  wise  in  the  minds  of  the 
"  sooners  "  to  withdraw — the  spectacle  pre 
sented  was  not  particularly  appalling.  There 
were  revealed  no  dead  upon  the  field,  and  the 
"  sooners,"  it  was  evident,  were  not  even  seri 
ously  disabled,  for  they  had  vanished  to  the 
last  man.  The  general  result,  however,  in  no 
wise  diminished  the  high  esteem  in  which 
Butternut  and  the  ulster  held  the  battle.  As 
the  day  broke  clear  over  the  bottom  the  old 
man  was  feverishly  passing  a  rag  through 
the  chambers  of  his  weapons,  while  he  re- 

306 


PASSING  OF  A  WHIPPOORWILL 

garded  his  captives  with  a  highly  important 
air.  Butternut  was  standing  guard.  The 
Lambkin  had  a  slight  wound  in  the  arm,  but 
he  wore  it  with  pride,  as  befitted  a  conqueror. 
True,  he  once  thought  of  Bartle's  wound,  and 
wished  that  by  way  of  variation  his  had  been 
a  leg! 

After  a  time  it  occurred  to  him  to  make 
a  search  for  the  gallant  stranger  who  had  so 
valiantly  aided  in  the  victory.  The  same  im 
portant  light  in  which  he  regarded  the  battle 
made  him  feel  that  this  mysterious  unknown 
had  been  of  much  assistance.  It  was  due  him, 
therefore,  to  be  treated  as  a  fellow  victor. 
Accordingly,  leaving  the  captives  in  the  care 
of  the  ulster,  the  Lambkin  proceeded  through 
the  bushes  to  the  point  whence  the  inde 
pendent  firing  had  issued.  In  the  center  of 
a  small  clearing  he  came  suddenly  upon  a 
young  man  in  "  city "  dress  sitting  compla 
cently,  his  back  to  a  stump. 

"  Billy!    Jumpin'  Tarant'lers— Billy!  " 
In  the  happiness  of  the  moment  the  Lamb 
kin  lost  utterly  the  dignity  of  a  general,  as 
well  as  all  his  past  bitter  feeling.     As  the 
tenderfoot  sprang  up  he  encircled  him  with 

307 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

his  sound  arm  in  a  show  of  inexpressible  de 
light,  while  Billy's  keen  pleasure  was  equally 
apparent.  Under  the  fire  of  Butternut's  swift 
questions  he  explained  how  he  had  followed 
along  several  hours  after  the  parting  on  the 
plain.  Galloping  by  the  creek  at  sunset,  he 
had  sighted  the  Lambkin's  horse  by  the  ford, 
and  halting,  fyad  pitched  camp,  thinking  the 
cowboy  would  return  presently. 

"  But  you  never  showed  up,  and  I  went  to 
sleep  waiting.  Then  about  midnight  I  was 
roused  by  pistol-shots,  and,  prowling  through 
the  brush,  I  came  upon  a  bunch  of  bush 
whackers  bent  on  trouble.  So  as  a  matter  of 
principle  I  backed  behind  a  stump  and  blazed 
into  them." 

"  I  see,"  said  Butternut;  and  he  added, 
with  a  smile  of  banter,  "  How's  the  Whip'- 
will?" 

But  Billy  was  anxious  on  other  matters. 

"  I  hope  you  have  '  nailed '  your  claim, 
Jones?" 

"Yes,  William."  The  Lambkin  made 
an  impatient  movement  with  his  hand,  while 
his  smile  broadened.  "Where's  the  Whip'- 
will?" 

308 


PASSING  OF  A  WHIPPOORWILL 

"  I  guess  I  haven't  much  choice  now " 

"  It'll    take    both    of    us    to    hold    mine. 
Where'd  you  leave  the  Whip'will?  " 
Then  Billy  made  an  idle  gesture: 
"  The  Whippoorwill?    Oh,  she's  dead." 
The  Lambkin's  face  froze.    It  took  on  the 
tone  of  cold  clay.    He  made  as  if  to  turn,  but 
it  was  the  motion  of  a  weed.    His  hand  per 
formed    a    piteous    outward    movement,    the 
appeal  of  the  blind.     He  turned  a  dull  gaze 
upward,  and  made  a  wheezy,  hoarse  sound 
in  his  throat. 

"  Yes,"  pursued  Billy,  indifferently.  "  She 
fell  just  as  I  turned — you  didn't  see  her — and 
she  was  never  conscious  afterward.  I  got  her 
to  some  water  in  a  squatter's  tent,  but  she  died 
in  an  hour.  ...  I  stayed  only  long  enough 
to  bury  her.  Rather  a  sad  case,  Jones.  Say 
you  knew  her?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Lambkin,  in  a  slow  voice. 
"  We  were  quite  old  friends,  Billy." 

He  looked  abstractedly  off  through  the 
trees. 


309 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE  SOUNDS  OF  A  DIRGE 

ONE  corner  of  Butternut's  and  Billy's 
claim  abutted  on  the  town  of  Perry,  which  in 
the  afternoon  of  this  second  day  was  grown, 
as  if  by  enchantment,  from  a  mere  soldiers' 
camp  on  the  line  of  the  Santa  Fe  to 
a  booming  county-seat  with  a  population  of 
over  six  thousand,  at  least  half  of  which 
would  be  permanent. 

Of  buildings  there  was  none,  though  a 
number  were  in  course  of  erection,  but  all 
over  the  site  were  squatted  square  bleach 
tents  which,  viewed  from  a  distant  hill,  but 
for  the  contradictory  presence  of  the  bawling 
boomers,  were  not  unlike  a  herd  of  white 
buffalo.  On  every  hand  appeared  establish 
ments  teeming  and  humming  with  varied  in 
dustries.  Bakeshops,  butcher-shops,  barber 
shops,  "  general  merchandise,"  land-agents, 

310 


THE    SOUNDS    OF    A    DIRGE 

opticians,  photographers,  the  inevitable  Chi 
naman  with  his  laundry-sign,  fortune-tellers, 
shooting-galleries,  theaters  and  saloons — all 
were  here,  in  tents,  and  conducting  a  metro 
politan  business.  The  fakirs  with  their  gam 
bling  games  were  probably  the  most  active, 
and  certainly  the  most  noisy.  There  were 
shell-games,  wheels  o'  fortune,  and  knife- 
boards  and  rings  in  plenty,  and  the  florid  man 
with  the  baby  dolls  and  baseballs  was  there, 
announcing  to  the  swarming  populace  that 
for  every  three  "  babies  "  they  struck  con 
secutively  they  would  get  a  half-dollar.  What 
with  canvas  and  pink  lemonade  and  peanuts 
everywhere,  there  was  only  wanting  the  ele 
phant  and  the  sawdust  to  make  it  "  circus 
day." 

Perhaps  half  a  mile  from  this  bustling 
scene,  on  the  open  plain,  yet  so  near  the  tim 
ber  along  the  creek  as  to  be  well  in  the  shade 
of  the  cottonwoods,  Billy  and  the  Lambkin 
had  pitched  their  tent.  They  had  also,  a  few 
yards  from  their  quarters,  hoisted  a  large 
white  flag  which,  when  the  wind  was  strong, 
gave  to  the  world  the  following  informa 
tion: 

3*1 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

This  Claim, 

By  right  of  priority, 

Is  the  property  of 

CHARLES  JONES 

and 

WILLIAM  WHITE. 
Attest : 

JOSEPH  PLUMMER, 

Deputy  U.  S.  Marsha!,  Gutkrie. 

The  drab  ulster  had  himself  added  the 
bottom  line,  remarking  to  the  Lambkin,  with 
a  smirk  of  pride: 

"  I  jedge  that'll  fetch  'em,  sonny.  There 
ain't  a  dozen  posted  men  in  Oklahoma  that 
ain't  heard  o'  old  Joe  Plummer,  an'  them 
that  ain't  won't  keer  to  go  monkeyin'  with 
Uncle  Sam.  But  if  ye  should  git  into  trouble, 
why,  thar's  my  address." 

He  had  escorted  his  two  prisoners  to  the 
town,  and,  delivering  them  there  to  an  able 
lieutenant,  returned  to  bid  Butternut  and 
Billy  good-by. 

As  he  left  them  now,  his  Lilliputian  legs 
taking  him  toward  the  town,  Butternut,  look 
ing  admiringly  after  him,  remarked: 

"A  mighty  bold  man,  William,  for  his 
312 


THE    SOUNDS    OF    A    DIRGE 

size.  I  don't  believe  he'd  think  any  more  o' 
facin'  the  mouth  of  a  cannon  than  of  eatin' 
his  breakfast." 

As  the  Lambkin,  leaning  against  the  cen 
ter-pole  at  the  entrance  to  his  tent,  surveyed 
the  howling  young  metropolis  in  the  distance, 
there  was  sadness  in  his  heart.  Billy  could 
not  understand  why  a  man  who,  from  being 
virtually  penniless,  was  suddenly  become  a 
comparatively  wealthy  person,  should  show 
no  signs  of  elation,  although  he  well  knew 
that  the  Lambkin  was  a  man  who  would  never 
make  a  great  noise.  Billy  was  jubilant.  He 
had  refused  to  consider  Butternut's  offer  of 
an  equal  share  until  the  Lambkin  had  made 
it  plain  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  one 
man  to  maintain  his  rights  to  a  claim  so  valu 
able  against  the  army  of  contestants  who,  on 
adjoining  sections,  were  already  filling  the 
land  with  arguments.  With  two  partners, 
each  could  be  the  other's  "  witness,"  and  there 
need  never  be  a  time  when  the  foot  of  a 
rightful  owner  should  be  remote  from  his 
property. 

The  tenderfoot,  inside  their  quarters,  was 
improvising  a  table  by  attaching  some  awk- 

21 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

ward  legs  to  a  soap-box.  From  time  to  time 
he  cast  an  inquiring  eye  toward  the  Lambkin, 
leaning  gracefully  against  the  tent-pole  and 
looking  musingly  toward  the  town.  There 
was  something  so  suggestive  of  loneliness  in 
his  attitude  that  Billy  began  to  have  a  sus 
picion,  but  smiled  it  aside  as  he  asked,  im 
patiently: 

"  The  woman,  Jones — she  was  nothing  to 
you?" 

And  the  Lambkin,  without  turning  his 
head,  replied,  in  his  quiet  voice: 

"  She  was  my  wife,  Billy." 

And  Billy  was  dumb  for  the  rest  of  the 
day. 

The  death-hour  ever  brings  the  tender- 
est  emotions  uppermost,  but  the  Lambkin's 
thoughts,  any  more  than  to  forgive  her  with 
his  whole  heart,  were  not  upon  the  Whip- 
poorwill.  They  say  that  to  pity  oneself  is  a 
dwarfish  thing,  but  that  can  not  be  true,  for 
the  Lambkin  was  lost  in  a  sea  of  self-pity, 
and  his  was  anything  but  a  small  nature.  It 
may  be  that  the  solemnity  of  the  moment  had 
much  to  do  with  his  lofty  plane  of  thinking, 
and  that  later,  losing  its  influence  in  the  strife 

3*4 


THE    SOUNDS    OF    A    DIRGE 

of  an  active  life,  he  would  view  things  in  a 
more  rational  light,  but  now  he  could  only 
feel  in  his  heart  that  the  death  of  the  Whip- 
poorwill  could  mean  nothing  to  him.  To 
be  merely  legally  free  in  no  way  removed  the 
baleful  blot  from  his  past,  nor  enabled  him 
to  escape  the  law  of  conscience.  On  the  con 
trary,  that  black  period  of  his  life  was  merely 
magnified  by  the  great  potency  of  his  love. 
While  it  was  not  in  him  to  presume  that  the 
Girl  from  Missouri  cared  in  any  way  for 
him,  he  believed  that  there  were  no  previous 
sacred  claims  upon  her  heart,  and  frankly  felt 
that  he  might  set  out  to  win  her  with  the 
chances  fair  in  his  favor,  but — his  dance-hall 
experiences  were  something  which  in  his 
present  mood  he  could  not  bring  himself  to 
the  point  of  confiding  to  her,  and  even  if,  by 
distorting  his  view-point  and  observing  a 
false  standard,  he  could  lessen  the  task,  such 
a  standard  could  never  be  hers.  It  was  ter 
ribly  ironical  that  the  other  one  should  have 
lived  only  long  enough  to  enter  his  life  and 
destroy  it. 

He  did  not  notice  Billy  pass  out  of  the 
tent  on  his  way  to  the  town  for  provisions. 

315 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

The  tenderfoot  was  not  jubilant  now.  He 
journeyed  with  thoughtful  steps  to  the  city  of 
tents,  entering  which  he  turned  an  abstracted 
eye  upon  the  swarming,  buzzing  inhabitants. 
He  lost  a  dollar  or  two  at  the  gambling  games 
in  the  hope  that  the  amusement  might  change 
his  mood,  and  he  tried  to  interest  himself  in 
the  noisy  utterances  of  an  agent  proclaiming 
the  last  rise  in  values,  but  it  was  useless.  Not 
even  the  sudden  offering  of  a  small  fortune 
for  his  "  share "  enthused  him.  He  could 
only  stroll  aimlessly  about,  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  and,  thinking  of  Butternut's 
last  remark,  mumble  mournfully  to  himself, 
"Well,  I  will  be  damned!" 

It  was  toward  the  end  of  the  afternoon 
when  a  little  commotion  started  from  the  sol 
diers'  camp  at  the  end  of  the  town,  and  an 
awful  whisper  stirred  the  air.  The  cavalry 
corporal  was  killed!  The  gallant  gray,  be 
coming  unmanageable  and  prancing  sideways 
instead  of  running  with  the  line,  had  gone 
down,  and  the  wan  lips  of  his  rider  would 
never  again  blow  a  bugle. 

As  this  news  flashed  along  from  the  sol 
diers'  camp,  whither  the  dying  man  had  been 


THE    SOUNDS    OF    A    DIRGE 

brought,  the  wheels  o'  fortune  were  suddenly 
stilled,  the  voices  of  the  feverish  multitude 
ceased,  and  a  pulseless,  dead  feeling  smote 
every  breast  like  a  cold  and  heavy  hand.  It 
was  probable  that  the  death  of  no  person  that 
day  could  have  excited  deeper  general  sor 
row,  for  he  was  best  known  to  all.  He  had 
been  the  great  man  of  the  day,  and  the  halo 
of  his  importance  was  to  follow  him  to  the 
grave. 

The  boomer  and  the  huckster  hushed  their 
cries,  and,  as  is  always  true  of  such  times,  a 
subtle  feeling  of  stronger  brotherhood  per 
vaded  the  air.  The  cowboy  and  the  gambler 
were  strangely  silent,  and  enemies  for  the 
moment  were  few  in  this  throng.  The  air 
was  heavy  with  the  presence  of  a  vast,  silent 
lamentation. 

Down  by  the  camp  stood  a  group  of  mute 
soldiers,  in  gleaming  white  trousers  and  cot 
ton  gloves,  awaiting  the  sunset  hour.  So 
immaculate  was  their  attire,  they  might  have 
been  awaiting  the  call  for  dress  parade.  The 
captain,  voiceless  from  sorrow,  was  moving 
his  gloved  hands  in  advisory  and  pathetic 
gestures. 

317 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

At  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  sunset  the  sad 
little  procession  took  its  way  toward  a  hill, 
to  the  chanting  notes  of  bugle  and  fife  and 
the  solemn  rumble  of  the  drum.  As  they 
moved  across  the  plain  with  measured  mili 
tary  stride,  they  might  have  been  a  procession 
of  specters,  such  was  their  effect  upon  the  on 
lookers.  There  was  none  save  soldiers  in 
this  death-march.  The  grave  being  in  full 
view  of  the  town,  each  man  felt  that  he 
was  sufficiently  present,  and  that  to  stand 
at  a  distance  and  leave  the  matter  to  those 
who  had  been  nearest  him  was  the  part 
of  honor  and  respect.  But  a  little  com 
pany  of  sorrowing  cowboys,  with  bared 
heads,  could  not  forbear  blending  with  the 
drum  and  fife  a  few  strains  from  a  song  of 
lament. 

These  sounds  reaching  Butternut,  retired 
in  his  tent  in  the  distance,  struck  cold  to  his 
heart.  Some  one  had  told  him  that  the  cav 
alryman  who  had  ridden  the  gray  was  being 
buried,  and  though  his  sympathies  were  ever 
strong,  it  was  like  adding  another  weight  to 
his  own  woes — a  sinister  scheme  of  Destiny  to 
impress  him  with  his  own  desolation.  To  him 

318 


THE   SOUNDS    OF    A    DIRGE 

this  solemn  chanting  of  fife  and  drum  was  not 
over  the  grave  of  the  corporal,  but  over  that 
other  grave,  back  on  the  prairie,  that  Billy 
had  told  him  of,  the  grave  of  the  Whippoor- 
will,  the  destroyer  of  his  love  and  life,  where 
fore  was  he  again  plunged  into  the  sea  of  self- 
pity.  To  have  erred  unwittingly  in  the  begin 
ning  was  bad  enough,  and  now  to  err  con 
sciously  by  following  the  lead  of  his  impulse 
was  something  he  determined  to  put  among 
the  things  impossible,  preserving  untarnished 
the  gospels  of  his  heart.  Taking  her  view 
point  as  his  own,  he  saw,  between  his  un 
wholesome  past  and  the  white  standards  of 
the  Girl  from  Missouri,  a  chasm  of  contrast 
which  made  the  trail  hopeless.  So  farther  and 
farther  from  him,  under  the  passing  strains  of 
this  dirge,  she  seemed  moving,  while  some 
where  in  his  mind,  along  the  black  wall  of  his 
despair,  flashed  crimson  pictures  of  their 
hours  together,  their  first  meeting,  the  Green 
Fork  dance,  the  ride  on  the  River  Road. 
Even  these  happy  memories  seemed  now  in 
the  grasp  of  fantoms,  and  it  was  like  the 
knell  of  his  own  doom  to  hear  the  cowboys 
singing: 

3J9 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  '  Bury  me  not  on  the  lone  prairie, 

Where  the  wild  coyotes  may  howl  o'er  me, 

Where  the  rattlesnake  glides  to  his  cottonwood  lair,' 
But  they  took  no  heed  to  his  dying  prayer; 

In  a  narrow  grave  just  six  by  three, 

They  buried  him  there  on  the  lone  prairie." 

Billy,  returning  from  his  errand  to  town, 
and  slinking  through  the  opening  in  the  tent, 
found  him  there,  his  lone  figure — dim  in  the 
evening  half-light — bowed  upon  the  table, 
his  head  in  his  arms. 


320 


CHAPTER   XXV 

THE  TURTLE  MAKES  A  SPEECH 

Six  weeks  later.  You  would  scarcely 
know  the  town  of  Perry  now,  compared  to 
its  appearance  on  the  day  of  its  birth.  It  is 
a  real  city.  There  are  not  more  than  a  score 
of  tents  in  sight,  and  these  belong  chiefly  to 
wandering  mountebanks,  gamblers,  and  for 
tune-tellers,  who  can  not  be  counted  as  citi 
zens.  The  pink-lemonade  men  have  been 
dispersed  by  the  cooler  weather,  but  if  the 
wind  is  toward  you  as  you  near  the  town  you 
can  smell  the  roasting  peanuts  for  a  mile. 
The  florid  man  with  the  baseballs  and  dolls 
is  still  here,  beaming  enticingly  while  he  vol 
leys  his  remarks  at  the  passing  populace. 

Both  the  residence  and  business  portions 
are  a  delight  to  the  eye.  Squares  as  nicely 
platted  as  a  chess-board,  streets  as  straight 
as  bowling-alleys,  a  bank,  post-office,  depot, 
"  hotel,"  and  half  a  dozen  stores  already 

321 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

erected,  buildings  of  all  sizes,  most  of  them 
unpainted  and  many  unfinished — all  contrive 
to  present  a  pleasing  example  of  the  wonders 
of  enterprise.  The  air  is  thick  with  the  signs 
and  sounds  of  industry,  and  with  the  cries  of 
the  venders  and  fakirs  are  now  blended  the 
clatter  of  new  lumber,  stacked  in  piles  by  the 
teamsters  hauling  it  from  the  railroad,  and 
the  shouts  of  the  joiners,  while  the  rhythmic 
noises  of  the  hammer  and  the  saw  are  every 
where. 

At  one  of  the  three  corners  facing  the 
half-built  court-house  is  the  provision  mar 
ket,  displaying  a  resplendent  array  of  "  cuts  " 
and  game,  at  another  you  can  find  "  dry-goods 
and  groceries,"  and  at  the  last  is  a  thriving 
saloon,  with  swinging  green  doors  and  a 
brand-new  walnut  bar,  with  a  brass  foot-rod 
running  the  length  of  it,  enabling  the  thirsty 
citizen  to  drink  in  the  attitude  of  a  man 
ascending  a  stair.  And  all  these  places  are 
alive  to  overflowing. 

Billy  and  the  Lambkin,  at  the  end  of  the 
first  week  following  the  opening,  had  pros 
pered  beyond  their  wildest  speculations,  and 
were  developing  a  fine  taste  in  the  matter  of 

322 


THE    TURTLE    MAKES    A    SPEECH 

cigars.  At  the  close  of  the  third  week  they 
had  disposed  of  part  of  their  claim  for  town- 
lots  at  "  fancy"  prices,  while  the  value  of  their 
remaining  acres  had  gone  far  into  the  thou 
sands.  Now,  after  six  weeks,  having  rein 
vested  wisely  the  proceeds  of  all  sales  as  fast 
as  received,  they  possessed  each  a  fair  for 
tune,  and  the  Lambkin  was  a  director  of  the 
bank. 

They  had  also  profited  largely  from  their 
negotiations  in  behalf  of  others,  for  while 
Butternut  wrote  a  bold  and  graceful  hand 
and  had  a  flow  of  speech  that  was  fascinat 
ing,  Billy,  who  had  included  some  law  in  his 
studies,  had  a  mighty  shrewd  eye  for  running 
over  a  paper. 

"  Buyin'  and  sellin'  isn't  in  my  line,  Will 
iam,"  the  Lambkin  had  said,  "  but  if  you'll 
be  the  brains  o'  the  concern,  I'll  try  to  keep 
up  the  interest." 

Thus  many  an  able  lawyer,  with  a  real 
license,  was  obliged  to  look  on  with  pocketed 
hands  while  the  line  of  hungry  investors 
curved  like  a  tidal-wave  to  the  land-office  of 
Jones  &  White. 

Butternut,  to  the  great  delight  of  Billy, 

323 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

had  brightened  up  wonderfully  within  the 
last  few  weeks.  There  had  been  a  time  when 
he  could  only  wander  morosely  about,  like  a 
man  with  weights  in  his  shoes,  with  an  un 
feeling  eye,  save  for  the  things  his  memory 
held,  and  even  ceasing  for  a  while  to  give 
attention  to  his  dress,  but  of  late  there  had 
been  a  change.  He  had  bought  a  neat-fitting 
civilian's  suit,  and — the  ecstatic  Billy  could 
not  mistake  it — there  was  a  sympathetic 
speech  in  his  eye.  Butternut  was  becoming 
cheerful,  as  many  another  has  done,  from 
necessity.  The  same  immutable  law  which 
caused  an  agonized  woman,  down  in  Texas, 
to  turn  in  helpless  appeal  to  the  blandish 
ments  of  a  man  of  small  soul,  made  the  Lamb 
kin  now  put  his  dead  heart  in  the  background 
and  seek  forgetfulness  in  the  excitement  of 
gathering  a  fortune. 

He  was  helped  greatly  in  this  by  the  ab 
sence  of  anything  in  his  environment  which 
might  bear  a  relationship  to  other  days.  He 
had  heard  once  from  the  Berry  boys — they 
had  "proved"  two  claims  farther  up  the 
Strip,  and  in  consequence  were  prospering — • 
but  aside  from  this  letter  there  had  been 

324 


THE   TURTLE    MAKES    A    SPEECH 

nothing  to  bring  to  him  the  slightest  reminder 
of  the  past. 

On  a  certain  afternoon,  during  a  quiet  in 
business,  Billy  was  "  keeping  office,"  and  the 
Lambkin,  down  the  street,  was  idly  patron 
izing  the  man  with  the  baseballs  and  dolls, 
while  a  laughing  crowd  looked  on.  As  he 
missed  for  the  third  time  the  loafers  grew 
hilarious. 

"  Git  on  to  his  curves!" 
"  D'ye  think  he  could  hit  a  barn?" 
"  Might,  if  he  t'row'd  a  hay-stack  or  a 
balloon." 

Then  a  slow,  familiar  voice  spoke: 
"  Better  try  a  lasso,  Butternut." 
The  utterance  of  his  half-forgotten  name 
made  him  wheel  instantly,  to  see  at  his  shoul 
der,  regarding  him  affably,  a  swarthy  man 
with  a  menacing  eye,  the  vicious  expression  of 
which  was  ludicrously  contradicted  by  the 
rest  of  his  face. 

"  Turtle  Mose,  by  the  Jumpin'  Hills!  " 

There  followed   a  hearty  hand-shake,   a 

few  delighted  words   of  comradeship,   then 

a  hurried  adjournment  to  the  establishment 

with  swinging  doors,  where  they  discovered 

325 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

a  gap  at  the  walnut  bar,  and  a  conversation 
prolonged  and  luxurious  ensued. 

Mose,  in  the  beginning,  did  most  of  the 
talking,  for  Butternut  had  finally  reached  that 
stage  when  he  could  listen  not  only  with  calm 
ness  but  with  a  moderate  delight  to  such  in 
telligence  as  it  now  became  the  Turtle  to 
divulge.  Mose  had  quit  the  ranch  just  one 
week  before,  and  he  was  therefore  "  loaded 
to  the  muzzle  "  with  news.  Fie  confined  his 
discourse,  however,  to  the  Circle-B  and  its 
environs.  Certain  information  he  had  gath 
ered  the  night  of  the  "  blow-out  "  at  the  Twin 
Bar  told  him  that  on  some  points  it  were 
wiser  for  him  not  to  touch,  so  between  the 
times  of  disposing  of  the  tall,  foaming  glasses 
with  which  Butternut  supplied  him  he  talked 
only  on  topics  which  were  safe.  True,  he  felt 
obliged  to  inform  his  friend  that  he  had  trans 
ferred  his  dog  over  to  Twin  Bar  as  directed, 
but  he  did  this  innocently,  and  got  quickly 
back  to  other  themes. 

"  Scotty's  moved  his  things  into  your 
cabin,  an'  is  takin'  keer  o'  your  books,  an'  the 
boys  air  lookin'  after  Biz;  but  I  reckon 
they've  all  got  a  good  lickin'  laid  up  fer  you 

326 


THE   TURTLE    iMAKES    A   SPEECH 

fer  tearin'  off  so  all-fired  sudden,  an'  never 
a  letter  sayin'  where  you  was.  McCormick 
'specially  is  achin'  to  take  you  in  hand,  an' 
only  t'other  night  I  hyern  Talbot  tellin'  his 
wife  that  the  old  ranch  was  like  a  alkali 
desert  since  you  quit  us." 

An  instant  the  Lambkin  felt  a  vapor  be 
fore  his  eyes,  a  persistent  obstruction  in  his 
throat.  How  fitting  were  these  words  to  his 
own  desolate  heart,  but  withal  it  was  not  un 
pleasant  to  hear  them.  He  tried  to  narrow 
his  recollection  to  his  comrades  of  the  Cir- 
cle-B,  to  his  many  buoyant  discussions  with 
Scotty,  tried  not  to  think  of  the  River  Road, 
but  it  was  useless.  Memory  and  inclination 
were  too  much  for  him. 

"The  Twin  Bar,  Mose— hasn't  changed 
hands,  has  she?  " 

"  Naw,  but  it's  mighty  lonesome  over  thar 
since  Cap'n  Kitty  an'  her  folks  shook  the 
place.  Her  uncle,  ye  know,  had  to  be  in 
Washin'ton  this  month,  an'  she  an'  her  aunt 
went  back  to  Kansas  City.  I  think  the  ranch 
is  for  sale." 

The  Turtle  spoke  very  carelessly,  while 
he  gazed  intently  at  his  glass.  He  did  not 

327 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

dare  look  the  Lambkin  in  the  eye  lest  his  own 
should  reveal  all  that  the  pallid,  suffering 
face  of  a  woman  had  told  him  the  night  of 
Reddy  Tums's  story. 

Butternut  had  found  a  spot  on  the  bar 
which  was  not  overflowed,  and  was  making 
some  figures  on  the  back  of  an  envelope. 

"  Fifteen — twenty-five — forty —  Yes,  by 
sellin'  out  everything  I  ought  to  be  able  to 
buy  it." 

"  Buy  what,  Lambkin?  " 

"  The  Twin  Bar." 

This  quiet  statement  caused  the  Turtle  to 
set  down  his  half-emptied  glass,  while  his 
eyes  grew  as  large  as  lemons. 

"  Buy  the  Twin  Bar — you!  Lambkin,  air 
ye  plumb  crazy?  " 

"  Not  exactly,  Mose.  Just  crazy  enough 
to  hand  'em  over  the  money  any  time,  unless 
they've  raised  the  price.  Would  you  like  to 
go  back  to  Texas  and  work  for  me?  " 

The  Turtle  was  still  shaking  his  head 
skeptically,  so  the  Lambkin,  with  boyish 
pride,  drew  a  fat  bank-book  from  his  pocket 
and  showed  him  some  footings.  The  bank 
book  alone,  being  an  article  which  to  the  Tur- 

328 


THE   TURTLE    MAKES    A   SPEECH 

tie's  mind  bespoke  colossal  sums,  was  enough 
to  satisfy  him,  but  by  way  of  gaining  time  in 
which  to  suppress  a  tendency  to  explode,  he 
bent  over  the  figures  like  a  schoolboy  over  a 
puzzle.  When  finally  he  lifted  his  head,  his 
cheeks  were  still  puffed  out,  until  the  explo 
sion  seemed  imminent. 

"  Don't  you  reckon  I  can  buy  it,  Mose?  " 
mildly  inquired  the  Lambkin. 

The  Turtle  with  difficulty  allowed  his 
gathered  wind  to  escape  noiselessly,  but  he 
could  not  refrain  from  rising  on  the  brass 
foot-rod  and  pounding  the  bar  with  his  fist, 
while  he  uttered  such  prolonged  and  ve 
hement  ejaculations  of  joy  that  the  observant 
barkeeper,  as  well  as  some  of  the  imbibing 
citizens,  viewed  him  with  apprehension  until 
a  quiet  glance  from  the  Lambkin  assured 
them. 

"Shoot  me  fer  a  lizard!"  screeched  the 
delighted  cowboy.  "  Skin  me  fer  a  jack- 
rabbit!  Saddle  me  to  a  bull's  tail  an'  start 
me  over  the  prairie!  If  this  don't  squash 
me!  Butternut  Jones  buyin'  the  Twin  Bar! 
Smoke  me  if  I  couldn't  jest  jump  the  Pecos 
at  her  widest  point!  What'll  Talbot  do? 
What'll  Scotty  think?  What'll  Jimsey  say? 
22  329 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Will  I  'work  fer  ye,  Lambkin!  I'll  do  any 
thing  fer  you  if  you'll  only  let  me  be  aroun' 
when  they  hyer  this!  " 

Butternut's  heart  glowed  at  this  exhibi 
tion  of  honest  joy.  He  not  only  assured  the 
Turtle  that  if  the  trade  was  made  his  wish 
should  be  fulfilled,  but  he  presented  the  cow 
boy  with  a  check  for  a  hundred  dollars  and 
invited  him  to  supper  at  the  "  hotel,"  where 
they  could  talk  it  over. 

"  Come  up  to  my  office  in  an  hour,"  said 
the  Lambkin,  snapping  his  watch.  "  I  want 
you  to  meet  my  partner  and  see  some  o'  our 
possessions  before  we  feed." 

He  then  bought  the  Turtle  a  good  cigar, 
and,  turning,  left  the  cowpuncher  gaping 
after  him  until  his  tall  figure  vanished 
through  the  swinging  doors. 

Proceeding  at  once  to  a  news-stall,  the 
Lambkin  purchased  a  Kansas  City  paper, 
and  glanced  hurriedly  through  the  advertise 
ment  section.  Sure  enough,  in  the  "  Land  " 
column,  he  found  the  following: 

"  FOR  SALE. — 60,000  acres  grazing-land, 
well  stocked,  in  Val  Verde  County,  Texas, 

330 


THE    TURTLE    MAKES   A    SPEECH 

between  Devil's  River  and  the  Pecos,  23  miles 
north  of  the  Southern  Pacific.  Apply  to  Car 
son  Mills,  Agent,  Kansas  City." 

"  The  Twin  Bar,  sure  as  shootin',"  quoth 
the  Lambkin. 

He  moved  to  the  edge  of  the  street,  and 
ran  a  satisfied  eye  over  as  much  of  the  town 
of  Perry  as  lay  within  his  range.  He  owned 
the  building  in  which  was  the  saddlery  op 
posite,  as  well  as  a  half-interest  in  the  mar 
ket-house,  a  block  farther  down  the  street, 
and  he  was  a  director  in  the  Bank  of  Per 
ry.  He  even  owned  stock  in  the  railroad 
company,  one  of  whose  trains  was  at  that 
moment  puffing  out  from  the  little  green  sta 
tion. 

"  I  reckon  I  could  buy  it,"  he  mused, 
"  but  I'd  have  to  sell  out,  and  I've  got  a 
mighty  good  thing  here." 

He  walked  thoughtfully  to  his  office, 
where  he  found  Billy,  his  feet  elevated  in 
the  window-frame  while  he  absorbed  the 
evening  Bugle.  The  door  and  windows  were 
open,  for  the  afternoons  were  not  yet  too  cool 
for  that.  Greeting  his  partner  cheerily,  the 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

Lambkin  turned  to  his  desk  and  began  to  fig 
ure  in  earnest. 

The  air  held  a  feeling  of  activity  and  new 
ness,  but  he  was  oblivious.  The  cries  of  the 
workmen,  the  kink-kink  of  a  blacksmith  at 
the  far  end  of  town,  the  pungent  smell  of 
shavings  and  smoke,  blending  with  the  per 
fumed  breath  of  the  prairies  and  coming  in 
to  him  like  an  incense,  were  things  he  heeded 
not. 

For  perhaps  half  an  hour  had  he  been 
engrossed  in  calculations,  when  a  swarthy 
man  with  a  vicious  eye  came  tearing  along 
the  street  like  a  frantic  bull,  at  a  speed  which 
knocked  all  obstacles  out  of  his  way,  while 
his  gaze  swept  both  sides  of  the  thoroughfare 
for  the  sign-board  of  Jones  &  White.  His 
menacing  eye  lighting  presently  on  the  object 
of  his  search,  he  seemed  to  double  his  already 
remarkable  pace,  and  a  minute  later,  lumber 
ing  through  the  door  and  blowing  like  a  por 
poise,  he  confronted  the  man  who  had  said 
he  might  buy  the  Twin  Bar.  Billy  drew  his 
feet  from  the  window-sill  and  started  toward 
the  intruder,  but  the  fellow  was  talking  now, 
and  he  did  not  interrupt. 

332 


THE   TURTLE    MAKES    A    SPEECH 

"Lambkin!  Lambkin!"  wheezed  the 
Turtle.  "Ain't  you  hyeerd?  I  jest  met  the 
Shuffler,  an'  he  says — he  says — the  Whip'ivill 
is  dead!  " 

Butternut  had  half-risen  from  his  chair  in 
his  interest,  but  he  at  once  resumed  his  sitting 
posture,  and  his  brow  clouded  impatiently  as 
he  said: 

"  Shucks,  Mose.  I  thought  you  had  some 
news." 

Then  the  Turtle  screamed: 

"  News!  Gawd  Almighty,  Lambkin,  if 
that  ain't  news  to  you,  then  all  I  kin  say  is, 
what  you  doin'  here — with  Cap'n  Kitty  jest 
dyin'  fer  love  of  you " 

The  Lambkin  was  on  his  feet  instantly, 
and  had  the  Turtle  by  the  shoulders,  his  heart 
beating  wildly. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Mose?  " 

And  the  Turtle  saw  that  he  knew  what 
his  friend  did  not;  therefore  he  gabbled  on 
with  ecstatic  defiance: 

"  Nawthin's  the  matter  with  me — 'ceptin' 
I  know  a  whole  lot,  an'  what  I  know  best  is 
that  I  wouldn't  treat  a  coyote  like  you're 
a-treatin'  her! — Reckon  I  wasn't  at  Jimsey's 

333 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

blow-out  the  night  she  fainted  plumb  cold 
after  hearin'  o'  the  Whip'will — Reddy  Turns, 
drunker'n  a  fool,  blabbin'  on  you  to  the  whole 
gang! — Reckon  I  didn't  see  her  turn  all  white 
as  a  ghost  wrhen  she  hyern  you  was  a  married 
man! — An'  when  I  follered  her  to  the  house 
to  tell  her  I'd  brought  your  dawg,  didn't  she 
turn  all  cold  ag'in  when  I  said  you  was  gone 
— an'  that  wooden-headed  city  feller  tryin'  to 
do  the  soothin'  act  an'  she  wouldn't  hev  it  at 
all ! — Lambkin,  you  make  me  sick/  " 

Butternut,  seeing  there  was  no  questioning 
this  man's  earnestness,  as  he  listened  to  the 
broken  words  was  at  first  stupefied,  speech 
less,  his  surprised  senses  failing  to  compre 
hend,  then  gradually  there  warmed  into  his 
blood  a  tranquil  song  of  delight.  He  felt  his 
dead  heart  alive  again  with  sudden  fire,  his 
pulses  tingled  with  the  vital  glow  of  living, 
his  whole  figure  vibrated  with  the  immensity 
of  his  joy.  Somewhere  in  his  leaping  brain 
a  voice  went  singing  a. strain  the  like  of  which 
he  had  never  heard,  but  which  is  the  Ian-  ' 
guage  of  all  Nature,  the  white  rose  of  a 
nation's  night.  It  seemed  to  be  telling  him 
that  he  was  no  longer  the  mere  owner  of  a 

334 


THE    TURTLE    MAKES    A    SPEECH 

part  of  the  town  of  Perry,  but  that  he  pos 
sessed  the  earth,  and  accordingly  he  went 
reaching  for  his  property.  Through  the  open 
windows  came  the  autumn  fragrance  of  the 
prairies,  and  the  clarion  sounds  of  industry 
spoke  a  new  tongue  to  him.  The  clatter  and 
call  of  the  teamsters  stacking  lumber  reached 
him  in  a  voice  he  understood,  the  rhythmic 
noises  of  the  hammer  and  the  saw  filled  his 
soul  with  glad  music,  and  even  a  puffing  old 
engine  in  the  railroad  yard  seemed  to  gather 
the  burden  of  his  song: 
She  had  loved  him! 


335 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

IN  MISSOURI 

THE  walls  of  the  office  of  Mr.  Carson 
Mills,  realty  and  rental  agent,  Kansas  City, 
bespoke  plainly  the  nature  of  the  negotiations 
there  conducted.  They  were  spotted  with 
pictures  of  cities  and  sites,  and  suburban 
charts  and  maps,  and  the  long  counter  was 
profusely  strewn  with  catalogues,  directories, 
and  railroad  folders. 

Mr.  Mills,  a  middle-aged,  quick-voiced 
man,  with  that  geniality  of  expression  which 
always  goes  with  spectacles,  sat  alertly  in  his 
revolving-chair,  and  while  he  made  some 
figures  on  a  pad,  conversed  confidently  with 
Mr.  Richard  Thorne,  who  had  been  so  long 
one  of  his  most  valued  patrons  that  their  ac 
quaintance  was  a  little  more  than  a  matter  of 
mere  business.  Outside,  as  they  talked,  the 
hundred  noises  of  an  active  city  were  a  con 
stant  discordant  rumble.  It  was  mid-after- 

336 


IN    MISSOURI 

noon,  when  the  sounds  of  traffic  were  highest, 
so  that  the  two  men  were  obliged  to  fre 
quently  bend  nearer  each  other  in  order  to 
be  heard. 

Thorne  was  with  difficulty  hiding  an  ex 
pression  of  being  bored.  It  was  always  a 
torture  for  him  to  make  these  periodical  visits 
to  Mills,  but  he  regarded  it  as  a  sort  of 
necessity  that  he  should  once  in  a  while  pose 
as  a  man  of  business  by  way  of  retaining  the 
agent's  respect.  Accordingly  he  was  assum 
ing  a  vital  interest  in  the  remarks  of  that 
gentleman,  who  of  course  was  shrewd  enough 
to  give  no  sign  that  he  understood. 

"  You  say  you  have  sold  the  Cawthorn 
property?  "  questioned  the  patron. 

"  Yes,  sir.  You'll  find  it  in  my  statement 
for  the  month." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  would  apply  the  pro 
ceeds  to  improving  the  Huxley  place.  The 
tenant,  I  understand,  is  complaining." 

The  last  report  of  Mr.  Mills  showed  that 
the  Huxley  house  had  been  put  in  thorough 
repair,  but  the  agent  knew  that  his  patron 
had  not  looked  at  the  statement,  and  so  he 
replied,  airily: 

337 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  All  right,  sir." 

After  a  few  moments  of  similar  discourse 
Mr.  Mills  tactfully  turned  the  conversation 
to  something  more  agreeable. 

"  How  are  things  at  the  bluff  house?  "  he 
inquired,  with  a  wink,  Thome's  special  in 
terest  in  the  Ramsgate  residence  being  not 
unknown  to  the  agent. 

Thome's  passive  face  scarcely  changed. 
The  woman  he  thought  he  loved  had  at  last 
promised  to  marry  him,  but  that  had  been  at 
least  a  week  ago,  and  he  had  grown  so  used 
to  the  thought  that  it  had  become  common 
place.  With  the  flavor  of  uncertainty  gone, 
he  found  the  affair  strangely  lacking  in  ex 
citement.  Still  he  was  interested  enough  to 
have  gone  over  this  very  afternoon  and  invited 
her  to  join  his  launch-party  to-night,  though 
he  had  not  been  consumed  with  regret  when 
she  declined.  To  the  banter  of  the  agent  he 
replied,  with  just  the  glimmer  of  a  smile: 

"  The  thing's  settled  at  last." 

Mr.  Mills,  who  had  seen  the  announce 
ment  in  the  papers,  at  once  extended  his  hand 
with  a  beaming  face,  as  if  the  intelligence 
were  fresh  to  him : 

338 


IN    MISSOURI 

"Well,  I'll  be  quit-claimed!  This  is 
news!  Accept  my  best,  sir.  I'm  devilish 
glad.  When's  she  coming  off?  " 

"  The  twentieth,  I  believe.  You're  down 
for  a  card." 

"  Thanks.  Stupendously  obliged,  I'm 
sure.  James!" 

A  young  man  with  a  green  shade  over  his 
eyes,  who  had  been  diligently  plugging  on  a 
typewriter  at  the  front  of  the  office,  reached 
the  counter  by  a  squirrel-like  movement,  the 
quick  eye  of  Mr.  Mills  having  sighted  a 
caller  at  the  door — a  slender,  well-dressed 
man,  in  whose  bearing  there  was  something 
which  suggested  his  newness  to  the  city,  yet 
whose  very  suppleness  of  carriage  and  tran 
quil  eye  as  he  entered  expressed  his  perfect 
assurance.  He  nodded  civilly  to  the  clerk,  in 
a  way  which  said  that  his  business  was  with 
the  proprietor,  and  leaning  supinely  against 
the  counter  sent  a  roving  gaze  over  the  maps 
on  the  wall. 

The  Lambkin's  days  in  the  town  of  Perry 
had  been  few  since  the  interesting  disclosure 
of  the  Turtle  had  brought  an  abrupt  change 
in  all  his  fine  gospels.  With  the  knowledge 

339 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

that  the  Girl  from  Missouri  had  loved  him, 
there  was  an  even  chance  that  she  loved  him 
still,  much  as  she  might  have  struggled  to  dis 
own  it,  and  there  had  been  something  in  this 
thought  which  caused  him  to  promptly  for 
give  himself  and  to  understand  that  while 
weaknesses  in  the  eyes  of  good  women  are  not 
commendable,  there  are  some  flaws  in  a  man's 
conduct  which  a  woman  who  loves  him  may 
be  persuaded  to  overlook.  However,  his  gaze 
was  now  centered  lovingly  on  a  map  of  Texas, 
and  for  the  time  he  was  keenly  interested  in 
real  estate.  It  was  a  felicitous  method  of  the 
resourceful  agent  to  insert  a  tack  in  each 
locality  where  he  was  prepared  to  buy  or 
sell,  and  the  Lambkin's  eye,  following  the 
line  of  the  Southern  Pacific  westward  to  the 
Pecos,  lit  upon  one  of  these  indicators  planted 
in  the  heart  of  Val  Verde  County.  He  was 
evidently  in  the  right  place. 

At  the  rear  of  the  office  there  was  a  mo 
ment  when  the  polite  face  of  Dick  Thorne 
seemed  suddenly  to  have  turned  to  bronze, 
but  immediately  he  was  himself  again,  and 
thankful  for  the  providence  which  had  placed 
him  on  his  guard.  While  the  clothes  were 

340 


IN    MISSOURI 

new,  he  had  instantly  recognized  the  familiar 
face  and  figure  which,  though  attractions  he 
had  once  praised,  he  now  hated  as  intensely 
as  his  narrow  nature  would  permit.  Not,  by 
any  means,  that  they  had  lost  color  in  his 
eyes,  but  merely  because  their  possessor  had 
once  figured  as  the  object  of  a  devotion,  from 
a  certain  quarter,  of  a  quality  that  he  had 
never  been  able  to  inspire.  Why,  confound 
it,  but  for  the  lucky  circumstance  of  a  pre 
vious  complication,  she  would  have  married 
him!  It  was  an  insult.  Of  course  she  had 
finally  gotten  over  it,  but  the  sting  was  there. 
He  began  to  take  the  innocent  presence  of 
the  visitor  at  the  counter  as  nothing  less  than 
a  bit  of  personal  impertinence  which  intensi 
fied  the  elation  he  had  always  felt  in  the 
cowboy's  peculiar  helplessness.  As  he  strode 
from  the  office,  his  "  business  "  ended,  Butter 
nut  greeted  him  with  a  breezy  "  Hello!  "  and 
was  about  to  extend  his  hand,  but  as  Thome's 
gaze  was  frozen  on  the  door,  while  he  gave 
no  sign,  the  Lambkin  turned  at  once  to  the 
counter,  both  the  snub  and  the  man  forgotten 
instantly. 

The  genial   Mr.   Mills  waddled  his   fat 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

legs  along  the  inner  side  of  the  railing,  and 
beamed  commercially  on  the  newcomer. 

"  Buying  or  selling,  sir?  " 

"  Why,"  said  the  Lambkin,  his  gaze  again 
on  Val  Verde  County,  "  I  was  thinkin'  o' 
takin'  that  ranch  off  your  hands,  but  I  notice 
you've  got  it  nailed." 

The  broadening  smile  of  the  agent  became 
less  commercial.  Here  was  a  man  of  such 
contrast  to  the  one  who  had  just  left  him  as 
to  delight  his  soul. 

"  Staked,  sir — staked  is  the  word.  Noth 
ing  in  this  office  is  nailed." 

It  required  very  few  moments  for  him  to 
understand  that  his  caller  meant  business,  and 
he  thereupon  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  wagged 
an  eloquent  tongue  in  behalf  of  the  attractions 
of  the  property  in  question.  And  though  he 
told  many  wonderful  lies  in  support  of  his 
claims  and  got  his  localities  sadly  mixed  (not 
limiting  his  range  to  things  on  the  map),  the 
mild-mannered  Lambkin  murmured  never  a 
word  of  dissent,  but  viewed  him  with  an  in 
terest  so  transfixed  that  the  agent  experienced 
a  pleasant  thrill  at  his  own  powers. 

"  The  finest  grazing  section  in  all  Texas, 
342 


IN    MISSOURI 

sir — less  than  twenty  miles  from  the  rail 
road — to  say  nothing  of  her  incomparable 
water  facilities — Devil's  River  touching  her 
at  four  points " 

"  Must  have  twisted  round  considerably," 
thought  the  Lambkin.  Still  the  interest  in 
his  eye  never  flagged,  for  though  he  had  no 
intention  of  closing  with  the  agent,  he  did 
want  other  information. 

"  Now  the  senator  told  me — "  he  began, 
reflectively. 

"The  senator!  You  know  Mr.  Rams- 
gate?" 

"  Oh,  quite  well.  Don't  he  ever  come 
home  these  days?  " 

His  tone  indicated  that  one  of  the  strong 
est  reasons  for  his  presence  in  the  city  was 
the  hope  that  he  might  find  the  senator  at 
home. 

"  Never,  sir.  Sticks  to  Washington  like 
a  leech.  Well,  I'll  be  quit-claimed!  Never 
suspected  you  knew  them.  Been  over  to  the 
house?" 

"  Why,  no — if  they're  not  at  home " 

"  Oh,  his  niece  is  there,  and  I  guess  she's 
having  a  lonesome  time  of  it,  for  the  old 

343 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

lady's  away,  too."  And  he  added,  with  a 
wink  of  cordiality,  for  he  was  singularly 
drawn  to  this  man,  "  her  fiance  won't  bother 
you,  either — he's  off  fixing  for  a  boat-party. 
Ha!  ha!" 

His  gaze  was  carelessly  in  another  quar 
ter,  as  a  man's  gaze  naturally  travels  when  he 
laughs,  so  he  did  not  see  the  instant's  pallor 
of  the  Lambkin's  face. 

"  Her  fiance?" 

"  Yes,  the  guy  that  snubbed  you.  It's  in 
the  papers.  All  set  for  the  twentieth." 

The  blow  would  have  been  less  vicious,  of 
course,  if  he  had  been  in  any  degree  expect 
ing  it;  but  since  the  night  at  the  Upper  Ford, 
when  the  key  to  the  secret  places  of  her  na 
ture  seemed  to  have  been  given  him,  he  had 
never  found  it  possible  to  regard  Thorne  as 
an  obstacle.  Through  all  the  hopes  and  fears 
accompanying  his  swift  journey  to  Missouri, 
following  the  speech  of  Turtle  Mose,  the 
cry  of  his  heart  had  been,  '  Will  she  let  me 
see  her?  Will  she  forgive  me?  Can  I  make 
her  love  me?  " — the  background  of  his  mind 
holding  no  shadow  of  a  man  of  fashion.  But 
now  there  flashed  home  to  him  the  utter  rea- 

344 


IN    MISSOURI 

sonableness,  the  perfect  naturalness  of  a  turn 
in  Thome's  favor.  She  had  had  her  day  of 
loving  fantoms,  and  it  was  not  surprising 
that  she  should  adopt  a  liberal  view  toward 
a  tangible  and  healthy  object,  who  could  not 
only  at  all  times  keep  his  best  foot  foremost, 
but  who  had  not  married  a  Whippoorwill — 
especially  considering  that  loneliness  with 
old  age  is  not  the  violent  desire  of  youth. 
Accordingly,  at  the  careless  words  of  Mr. 
Mills,  the  Lambkin  turned  cold  to  the  -scalp, 
that  steadiness  of  nerve  so  strong  a  factor  of 
his  nature  almost  forsaking  him.  It  was  like 
the  snapping  of  the  final  strand  in  his  rope 
of  hope.  An  instant  the  surrounding  furni 
ture  seemed  bobbing  like  things  afloat,  and 
the  charts  and  pictures  on  the  wall  became  a 
procession  of  grimacing  dervishes  dancing  in 
time  to  the  din  in  the  street.  But  after  that 
first  flash  of  pallor,  unnoticed  by  the  agent, 
the  woe  of  his  heart  was  shown  not  in  his  face. 
His  eye  held  nothing  more  than  a  light  of 
quizzical  surprise,  and  his  voice  was  even 
and  serene  as  he  said: 

"That  so?     Then  I  reckon  I  had  better 
offer  congratulations.     So,  if  you'll  just  let 
23  345 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

our  trade  go  till  to-morrow,  I'll  wander  over 
to  the  house.  They  haven't  moved  lately, 
have  they?  " 

"  No.  Quickest  way  is  to  keep  right  out 
the  avenue  till  you  strike  the  boulevard, 
where  you'll  see  the  place — on  the  bluff  just 
across  the  bridge.  You'll  know  it  easy — a 
yellow  house  with  a  cupola." 

The  Lambkin  thanked  him,  laid  his  card 
on  the  counter,  and  strolled  into  the  street. 
But  instead  of  following  the  avenue,  he 
walked  aimlessly  in  another  direction.  His 
mind  was  revolving  confusedly.  The  noises 
of  the  streets  to  his  throbbing  brain  were  like 
a  hundred  tumults,  but  he  was  heedless  to 
passing  vehicles  and  men.  Since  the  revela 
tion  of  the  Turtle  he  had  given  his  long-re 
strained  ardor  a  free  rein,  that  lamblike  as 
surance  which  was  his  by  nature  making  him 
feel  that  he  had  merely  to  journey  to  his  re 
ward.  To  have  the  folly  of  his  faith  then 
brought  home  to  him  was  an  experience 
which  in  bitterness  was  equaled  by  nothing  on 
the  calendar  of  his  past.  Slowly,  listlessly,  he 
wandered  twice  around  a  square,  and  once 
he  entered  a  door  guarded  by  a  wooden  In- 

346 


IN    MISSOURI 

dian,  but  though  he  was  smoking  when  he 
came  out  he  was  not  conscious  of  it.  So  his 
last  wild  hope  had  come  to  this!  And  after 
the  speech  of  the  Turtle  had  lifted  him  so 
high,  it  was  hard,  so  hard  to  fall!  He  looked 
forward  into  the  years  and  saw  a  desolate 
world  through  which  he  must  journey  joyless, 
with  no  buoy-lights  for  his  heart's  rest  and 
for  his  lonely  feet  a  forgotten,  unblazed  trail. 
By  that  reflex  mind-action  whose  faculty  is 
always  to  present  pictures  contrary  to  our 
moods,  he  found  himself  recalling  those  de 
lights  of  his  childhood  which  were  most  mem 
orable — his  first  sight  of  a  steamboat,  for  ex 
ample,  or  certain  days  of  splendor  in  his  home 
village — days  of  barbecues  and  circuses,  of 
glittering  tin  pageants.  From  time  to  time 
he  paused  at  the  intersection  of  a  street  run 
ning  toward  the  river,  and  sent  a  piteous 
eye  beyond  the  sky  of  windows  and  roofs 
and  telegraph  wires  to  where  he  knew 
she  lived.  He  thought  of  the  day  she  had 
come  into  his  cabin,  filling  the  room  and  his 
heart  with  joy — of  the  lovable  grace  with 
which  she  sat  a  horse — of  the  countless  ways 
which  made  her  dear  to  him. 

347 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  If  I  could  see  her  without  frightening 
her,"  he  mused  hopefully,  "  I  reckon  there'd 
be  a  chance  in  a  hundred.  But,  by  God! 
they've  set  the  day!  " 

As  that  thought  would  flash  over  him  it 
would  leave  him  beaten  and  crushed,  and  he 
would  resolve  to  find  his  hotel  and  quit  the 
town  at  once.  He  would  go  back  to  Okla 
homa  and  resume  the  old  business  of  losing 
himself — he  would  work  and  forget.  But 
each  time  he  moved  in  this  direction  a  voice 
in  his  heart  would  stop  him  before  he  had 
traversed  a  square.  Must  he  consider  himself 
alone?  Must  he  not  consider  her,  and  while 
there  was  a  possibility  of  her  deceiving  her 
self  into  marrying  a  worthless  man,  was  it  not 
the  part  of  gallantry  and  honor  for  him  to 
intercede — to  risk  humiliation  for  her  sake? 
Bosh!  On  what  sort  of  a  pinnacle  was  he 
putting  himself?  Maybe  she  had  never 
cared  for  him!  Maybe  the  Turtle  had  been 
blind!  Or  if  she  had,  it  was  likely  she  had 
dutifully  forgotten  it — so  why  confront  her 
like  a  ghost? 

He  wheeled  resolutely  for  the  last  time 
and  strode  toward  his  hotel,  determined  not 

348 


IN    MISSOURI 

to  change  his  mind  again,  but  to  keep  to  the 
course  he  knew  was  best.  But  always  in  his 
heart  a  voice  kept  saying: 

"  A    hundredth    chance  —  a    hundredth 
chance!" 


349 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

BALANCE  ALL 

THE  surroundings  of  the  yellow  house  on 
the  bluff  presented  nothing  more  than  the 
everlasting  sameness  common  to  the  tastes  of 
rich  men.  The  yard  held  the  usual  number 
of  diagrams  in  color,  two  shaped  like  an  "  S," 
an  anchor  and  a  star;  there  was  the  fountain 
playing  with  the  same  old  constancy,  and 
there  was  Venus  on  one  leg,  beckoning  to  the 
postman. 

In  a  corner  room,  up-stairs,  Catherine  was 
dividing  her  time  between  nervously  finger 
ing  the  various  articles  within  her  reach  and 
periodically  visiting  the  window  to  listlessly 
view  the  ebbing  waters  of  the  Missouri.  Her 
declination  of  Richard's  invitation  she  knew 
had  not  been  due  to  any  lack  of  consideration 
for  him;  she  was  simply  in  one  of  her  nature- 
saddened  moods  when  society  irritated  her. 
Such  hours  were  new  to  Catherine,  and  she 

350 


BALANCE    ALL 

had  not  yet  learned  the  best  way  to  get 
through  them. 

She  opened  book  after  book,  but  it  was 
life,  not  books,  she  wanted.  She  tried  letter- 
writing,  seeking  to  bring  herself  closer  to  the 
few  friends  she  valued,  but  the  cold  blue 
paper  and  unfeeling  slanting  scratches  failed 
to  give  back  the  warm  human  response  for 
which  she  hungered. 

Again  she  went  to  the  window,  her  eye 
dropping  from  ledge  to  ledge,  and  down  to 
the  yellow  waters,  whose  smooth  flow  seemed 
to  bear  her  instantly  to  a  narrower  and  redder 
stream  winding  remotely  below  a  higher 
bluff,  with  the  mountains  beyond  it,  and  along 
which  spiritedly  rode  a  girl  too  happy  and  in 
terested  in  all  things  to  suspect  that  life  could 
know  the  emptiness  of  the  present  hour.  Then 
another  horse  cantered  beside  hers,  and  a  gen 
tle  face,  with  humor  like  a  sun  tempering  its 
gravity,  was  turned  to  her  own  with  a  look 
that  surely  bespoke  the  innocence  and  sin 
cerity  of  an  untainted  heart.  And  then — 
always  at  last — rose  the  contradictory  picture 
of  a  ribald  cowboy  (she  had  apparently 
learned  to  forget  his  name,  for  always  in  her 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

memory  he  was  "  the  cowboy")  wooing  a 
tavern  wench,  with  horror-striking  details 
that  made  her  shrink  and  curtain  the  eye  of 
mind — to  open  it  again  on  the  only  world 
that  could  ever  be  hers,  the  world  of  Richard 
Thorne.  Heaven  help  her  to  be  loyal  to  her 
new  obligations,  and  teach  these  ghosts  that 
would  come  in  spite  of  her  to  know  their  time 
and  place.  With  this  prayer  in  mind  she 
turned  from  the  window  with  an  outward 
briskness  and  determination  apparently  cor 
responding  to  some  resolution  within,  and  go 
ing  to  her  desk  wrote  a  note  to  Richard,  say 
ing  that  she  had  reconsidered  and  would 
be  glad  to  join  the  boating-party.  As  she 
dropped  the  pen  at  the  end,  the  door-bell 
rang. 

"  A  Mr.  Phillips,  mum,"  said  the  maid. 
"  Come  to  see  about  the  ranch.  Says  the 
agent  couldn't  answer  his  questions.  Showed 
him  in  the  drawin'-room,  mum." 

Catherine,  leaving  the  unsealed  note  on 
her  desk,  descended  the  stair  with  something 
like  a  living  interest  at  her  heart.  She  would 
hurry  this  interview  to  an  end  that  she  might 
the  earlier  prepare  for  the  evening's  enjoy- 

352 


BALANCE    ALL 

ment.  Society  sometimes  was  not  wholly  dis 
tasteful,  and  certainly  Richard  was  not  always 
tiresome.  She  would  learn  to  like  both  even 
more,  and  life,  perhaps,  would  yet  afford  her 
a  fair  measure  of  content.  As  she  entered 
the  room,  a  man  who  had  been  standing 
in  shadow  took  a  single  step  toward  her, 
the  action  bringing  him  fair  into  the  light. 
An  instant  she  was  in  doubt  whether  to  credit 
her  sight,  then,  with  a  frightened  gasp,  would 
have  turned  to  fly  had  not  her  astonishment 
held  her  powerless. 

Before  her,  tall,  tranquil,  always  gentle, 
stood  the  cowboy! 

He  was  slightly  pale,  but  the  fractional 
impression  of  the  old  assuring  smile  as  he 
looked  at  her,  as  well  as  the  confident  bear 
ing  of  his  whole  figure — bent  a  little  forward 
in  a  respectful  half-bow — confirmed  the  truth 
that,  whatever  were  his  emotions,  he  could 
always  be  self-possessed. 

She  shrank  back  with  a  little  alarmed  cry, 
but  instantly  there  was  that  in  his  eye,  a  light 
of  pained  surprise,  which  filled  her  with 
burning  self-reproach.  She  had  nothing  to 
fear  from  this  man,  who  could  never  pre- 
353 


BUTTERNUT  JONES 

sume,  never  be  familiar,  or,  above  all,  at  such 
a  time  take  advantage  of  a  previous  relation 
ship. 

"  Mr.  Phillips!"  she  cried  at  last,  seek 
ing  relief  in  an  assumption  of  resentment. 

His  smile  broadened  just  perceptibly 
enough  to  show  that  he  sought  to  reassure 
her,  then  he  spoke,  in  his  unvaryingly  tran 
quil  voice : 

"  Miss  Thurston,  I  believe.  I'll  bet  forty 
dollars  you  weren't  lookin'  for  me!" 

There  was  not  the  slightest  eagerness  in 
his  speech,  but  then  he  could  be  amazingly 
cordial  while  imparting  to  his  level  tones 
nothing  more  than  the  courteously  deferen 
tial.  She  felt  a  quality  in  his  voice  that 
seemed  to  bespeak  the  perfect  security  with 
which  she  might  offer  him  her  hand,  and  it 
brought  a  strange  tremor  of  peace  to  her 
heart. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  she  asked,  hos 
pitably,  motioning  to  a  chair  by  the  river 
window,  but  he  went  and  stood  by  it  instead. 
Then  instantly  her  fright  leaped  to  the  sur 
face  again,  and  she  faltered: 

"You — you  came — to — to " 

354 


BALANCE    ALL 

"  I  came  after  Boodler,  ma'am." 

Divine  Lambkin!  Who  could  fail  to  be 
at  ease  in  your  wonderful  presence?  He  had 
come  to  tell  her  of  his  love,  to  tell  her  of  the 
Whip  poo  rwill,  but  he  was  not  the  man  to 
touch  upon  the  language  of  his  heart  until 
he  had  made  her  smile.  And  then  he  would 
do  so  gradually — oh,  so  gently,  and  with  such 
diabolical  craft  that  she  would  never  know 
that  he  was  conscious  of  her  disadvantage. 

"  Boodler  is  not  here/'  she  said,  and  she 
was  smiling  now.  "  I  left  him  with  Jimsey." 

"Yes?  I'm  glad  o'  that.  He'll  be  on 
hand  then  when  I  go  down.  Fine  view  you 
have  here."  He  looked  across  the  river  at 
the  sunset,  then  leaning  from  the  window  sent 
an  admiring  eye  up  and  down  the  muddy 
Missouri.  "  Mighty  bold  stream,  isn't  she? 
Bigger  than  the  Pecos;  but  don't  you  miss 
the  mountains?  " 

Tender  spot,  Lambkin,  the  Pecos,  for 
there  lies  the  River  Road  where  love  first 
dawned ! 

"I  do,  indeed,"  she  said;  "but  we  can't 
have  all  we  want.  It  pleases  my  uncle  to  sell 
the  place." 

355 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

He  inferred  from  this  that  it  did  not 
please  her,  and  rejoiced  in  consequence. 

"  I'm  glad  you  still  like  the  mountains. 
I  hope  none  of  them  will  have  moved  away 
when  I  get  back." 

The  air  held  a  feeling  in  perfect  keeping 
with  the  sentiment  which  now  overflowed  his 
soul,  the  noises  of  the  city  being  just  remote 
enough  to  emphasize  the  quiet  of  the  hour. 
Softly  through  the  evening  came  the  whirr 
of  distant  vehicles,  and  the  melancholy  drone 
of  an  electric  reached  him  like  a  song  of 
sweetness.  She  thought  it  wiser  not  to  show 
that  she  had  noticed  the  dangerous  trend  of 
his  last  speech. 

"  You  are  really  going  back,  then?  " 

"  Yes'm — if  we  can  make  a  trade." 

"  You  have  some  one  in  mind  who  might 
buy  the  place?  " 

"  I  was  thinkin'  of  takin'  it  myself,"  he 
drawled. 

She  did  not  know  for  an  instant  whether 
to  take  him  seriously,  this  being  one  of  the 
ways  in  which  he  had  always  been  too  much 
for  her;  then  something  seemed  to  tell  her 
that  he  was  in  earnest. 

356 


BALANCE    ALL 

"  Thinking  of  taking  it  yourself!  "  she  re 
peated,  bewilderedly,  and  he  could  not  resist 
the  impulse  to  prolong  her  astonishment. 
"  You  haven't  any  objections,  I  hope?  " 
"  Why,   no — of  course  not — "  she  stam 
mered,  blushingly.    "  But  I — I — well — I  had 
never    supposed    that   you    were    a    wealthy 


man." 


His  serene  face  was  changeless  as  he  said: 

"  Oh,  it  doesn't  take  a  very  wealthy  man 
to  buy  a  place  like  the  Twin  Bar.  You  see, 
it's  roily  and  quite  rocky  in  places,  and  really 
isn't  so  very  rich  in  valley-land.  Your  price 
can't  be  much  over  fifty  thousand?  " 

Then  the  helpless  embarrassment  in  her 
face  smote  his  conscience. 

"  You're  quite  right,"  he  said,  and  she  de 
tected  a  touch  of  tenderness  in  his  voice.  "  I 
<was  poor  in  those  days — so  poor  that  I  could 
scarcely  have  bought  a  dozen  cows.  But  I 
hope  you'll  sell  me  the  Twin  Bar  to-day." 

He  laid  a  little  emphasis  on  the  familiar 
name,  and  being  a  woman,  however  high  her 
fears  ran,  she  could  not  forbear  asking: 

"  Why  the  Twin  Bar  especially?  Are 
there  not  many  ranches  quite  as  good?  " 

357 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  Possibly,  for  the  mere  business  of  rais 
ing  stock.  But,  you  see,  I'm  a  man  of  some 
sentiment,  and  things  have  happened  there 
which  make  it  of  particular  value  to  me." 

He  was  speaking  earnestly  now,  while  he 
looked  away  from  her  through  the  window. 
He  might  have  made  a  direct  appeal  on  first 
entering  the  house,  but  now  his  thoughts  were 
dancing  ungovernably  instead  of  marching 
along  in  the  order  he  had  planned,  and  an 
instant  he  trembled  in  the  fear  that  his  com 
ing  might  be  nothing  more  than  utter  useless- 
ness — utter  madness.  Then  a  word  came  to 
save  him — truth.  He  was  there  to  speak  the 
truth  and  make  it  clear,  and  he  would  forget 
everything  else  in  the  effort.  That  thought 
would  be  the  shore-light  by  which  he  would 
swim.  She  listened  in  an  attitude  non-com 
mittal,  neither  encouraging  nor  discouraging, 
but  she  was  intent  and  conscious  of  no  sound 
save  the  soft  retrospective  voice  of  the  man 
before  her. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  was  saying,  and  his  heart 
was  talking  now,  "  there  are  times  when  the 
gentlest  natures  must  risk  causing  pain  to  a 
woman.  While  my  purpose  here  is  to  buy 

358 


BALANCE    ALL 

the  Twin  Bar,  there  is  something  on  another 
subject  I  would  say  to  you." 

"  Perhaps  I  know,"  she  said,  softly,  with 
pity  that  would  have  spared  him. 

"  If  you  do,  then  I  am  hopeless;  but  there 
must  be  no  doubt.  You've  seen  an  old  house 
torn  down — its  foundations  laid  open,  the  cel 
lars  and  groundways  uncovered,  the  hearth- 
places  where  the  family  sat  and  whispered 
things  not  meant  for  the  world — all  bare  and 
gaping  up.  No  pretty  windows  or  vines,  or 
paint  or  red  roof,  but  just  the  things  they  were 
meant  to  hide.  That  is  what  you  will  have  to 
look  at  in  me  now.  I'll  hide  nothing,  for  I 
can't,  and — I  reckon  you'll  believe  me?  " 

She  thought  she  said  "  Yes,"  but  her  lips 
moved  silently.  The  hour  deepened  unno- 
ticeably  into  twilight,  and  neither  heard  the 
muffled  sounds  of  the  city,  the  distant  moan 
of  the  vehicles,  or  the  cries  of  the  boatmen 
on  the  river. 

"  I  knew  you  would — I  counted  on  that. 
But  what  you  think  is  different.  I  suppose 
I  ought  to  begin  before  I  was  born,  but  I 
won't  take  up  your  time  that  way.  I  have 
told  you  something  about  my  mother,  and 

359 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

how  she  was  delicate  and  gentle,  and  little 
and  pretty,  with  a  head  full  of  poetry  and  a 
heart  full  of  love,  and  how  my  father  was 
rough  and  brave,  but  gentle,  too,  or  he  could 
not  have  worshiped  her  and  laid  down  his 
life  for  her,  for  that's  what  it  came  to  in  the 
end — though  I'm  not  going  to  bother  you 
with  that.  But  I  want  to  say  that  I  didn't  get 
any  meanness  from  them,  and  if  I've  got  any 
it  just  came  by  itself.  But  I  did  get  notions 
and  fancies,  I  reckon,  that  don't  go  well  with 
bankin'  and  storekeepin'  and  cow-punchin,' 
and  other  things  that  folks  have  to  spend  a 
good  deal  of  time  at  in  this  world.  .  .  . 
Up  to  the  time  I  was  twenty  I  knew  only  one 
woman  well  enough  to  call  friend,  and  that 
was  my  mother.  At  the  schools  I  went  to 
before  she  got  too  sick  for  me  to  leave  her  I 
never  played  with  the  girls,  partly  because 
I  was  shy  and  partly  because  I  couldn't  feel  it 
was  right  for  just  an  ordinary  boy  to  be  talkin' 
to  angels.  You  see,  I  began  by  bein'  a  fool, 
and  I  didn't  end  up  much  better.  My  mother 
was  always  talkin'  about  beauty  and  truth 
and  poetry  and  love,  till  I  believed  that  was 
what  the  world  was  made  of.  She  was  a  pure 

360 


BALANCE   ALL 

being  of  perfect  light,  and  while  she  lived 
she  filled  the  world  for  me.  .  .  .  I'm  not 
tellin'  you  this  to  excuse  myself  in  any  way, 
but  because  it  is  so,  and  I  want  you  to  know 
from  the  beginning.  When  she  died  there 
was  about  enough  left  to  keep  me  at  college 
for  the  first  year,  and  I  worked  out  the  others. 
It  kept  me  pretty  busy,  because  I  had  lots  to 
make  up.  Most  of  what  I  knew  didn't  count 
there — it  was  such  a  different  sort.  Well,  I 
wore  so  thin  from  so  much  study  and  want 
of  sleep  that  the  doctor  finally  said  I'd  have 
to  clear  out,  so  I  started  for  the  Pecos  coun 
try.  All  this  time  I  had  no  women  friends, 
which  is  what  I'm  coming  to.  The  Pecos 
boys  called  me  '  green,'  which  I  reckon  I  was, 
and  not  wishin'  to  appear  unsociable  or  afraid 
to  follow  where  they  led,  I  began  to  ride  over 
to  the  Sable  Serpent." 

She  gave  a  little  shudder,  and  slipped 
helplessly  down  in  the  chair  by  which  she 
stood.  He  was  still  standing  away  from  her, 
while  he  gazed  steadily  through  the  opea 
window. 

"  As  I've  told  you,  when  I  was  a  boy  I 
held  aloof  from  women,  thinkin'  they  were 
24  361 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

just  noble  creatures  God  had  put  in  the  world 
for  men  to  wonder  at.  But  one  day  I  began 
to  understand  what  my  mother  had  been  to 
my  father,  and  to  realize  that  some  day  one 
of  those  wonderful  creatures  would  come  into 
my  life  and  be  everything  that  my  mother 
was,  except  that  she  would  be  young  and 
could  trip  about  and  go  everywhere  with  me. 
I  then  began  to  look  at  women  with  a  distant, 
critic's  eye,  and  to  say  that  she  must  not  be 
like  this  one  or  that  one,  but  at  last  I  left  off 
wondering  and  trying  to  paint  her  to  my  soul, 
and  was  content  just  to  believe  that  she  would 
be  the  crown  and  glory  of  my  life.  Finally  I 
didn't  care  to  look  at  women  any  more,  for  I 
was  waitin'  for  her.  That  was  the  way  I  felt 
when  I  began  to  go  to  the  Sable  Serpent.  And 
there  I  met  a  woman — and  this  is  what  you 
may  not  understand,  for  I  don't  think  I  under 
stand  it  myself.  I  knew  she  was  not  the  one, 
but  she  was  pretty  as  night  when  all  the  stars 
are  on  parade,  and  though  she  laughed  and 
talked  high  with  the  others  she  was  always 
sweet  and  gentle  with  me,  and  would  touch 
my  sleeve  so  lady-like  and  say  she  felt  that  I 
respected  her,  and  that  the  worst  woman  in 

362 


BALANCE   ALL 

the  world  could  save  her  soul  if  all  men  were 
like  me.  When  she  would  say  that,  and  look 
at  me  with  the  tears  ready  to  start,  and  a  sort 
of  clutchin'  at  her  throat,  my  head  would 
swim  and  I  would  feel  like  takin'  her  in  my 
arms  and  runnin'  away  where  she  would  be 
safe.  I  told  her  that  if  she  would  leave  the 
place  I  would  protect  her,  but  she  said  that 
couldn't  be  unless  I  married  her,  for  the 
world  would  still  think  she  wasn't  respect 
able.  But  I'm  not  excusin'  myself.  Maybe 
it  was  her  black  hair  and  eyes  and  pink  cheeks 
that  had  most  to  do  with  it.  Maybe  I  was 
glad  of  a  chance  just  then  to  give  up  the 
dream-woman  for  the  real  one.  Months 
and  years  are  very  long  to  the  young,  especial 
ly  when  they're  waitin'  and  waitin'  for  some- 
thin'  that  don't  come,  and  feel  that  they  can't 
begin  to  live  till  it  does  come.  ...  I 
married  her,  but  I  reckon  you'll  believe  me 
when  I  say  that  she  was  never  any  more  to 
me  than  the  incarnation  of  a  great  folly." 

He  paused,  as  if  the  bitterness  of  his 
words  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  speak, 
his  eyes  still  fixed  on  the  window  instead  of 
the  motionless  woman  beside  him. 

363 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"  You— you— left  her?  " 

"I  would  not  put  it  in  that  way.  When 
her  nature  was  revealed  to  me  we  could  not  do 
other  than  part.  But,  as  I  said,  I'm  not  ex- 
cusin'  myself.  When  I  was  untrue  to  my 
ideal  I  was  untrue  to  you,  and  the  fact  that  I 
didn't  meet  you  till  afterward  don't  make  the 
sin  against  you  any  less." 

She  leaned  forward  so  silently  that  he,  not 
looking,  did  not  know  that  she  had  moved. 
Her  voice  to  him  seemed  dead  and  unvibrant. 
In  reality  it  was  weighed  down  by  crushed 
and  overmuch  feeling. 

"  You  saw  her — afterward?  " 

"  For  a  moment — at  a  distance — the  day 
she  died." 

She  leaned  back  with  a  sound  like  a  moan, 
and  said  nothing,  and  he  welcomed  a  little 
silence.  When  at  last  she  spoke  it  was  in  a 
whisper: 

"She— is— dead!" 

He  did  not  hear  her. 

"  I  was  beginning  to  get  easy,"  he  went 
on,  "  and  accustomed  to  the  '  ropes ' — when 
you  came,  and  I  knew  I  had  to  take  my  turn 
in  the  ring  again.  I  had  played  the  clown  be- 

364 


BALANCE    ALL 

fore,  but  this  time  I  was  to  ride  wild  horses. 
The  night  of  the  dance  at  Green  Fork — the 
night  we  crossed  the  Upper  Ford — I  had  to 
pull  like  Samson  to  keep  out  of  the  ditch. 
God!  If  I  could  have  spoken  then  you  would 
have  heard  a  heart!  .  .  .  Yes,  the  wild 
horses  were  plungin'  their  maddest  that  night. 
.  .  .  But  I  managed  it.  ...  I  reckon 
you'll  admit  that  I  managed  it." 

Again  he  paused,  the  intensity  of  feeling 
produced  by  recollection  leaving  him  voice^ 
less,  while  the  burning  power  of  his  passion 
ate  words  made  her  heart  stand  still. 

"  The  mere  death  of  the  woman,"  he  re 
sumed,  in  a  voice  so  low  as  to  have  been  in 
distinct  to  a  listener  less  intent,  "  I  know  can 
mean  nothing.  It  is  what  I  have  done  that 
counts  with  women  like  you.  .  .  .  But 
though  life  without  you  is  life  without  breath, 
though  my  world  without  you  is  a  world  with 
out  light,  I  shall  try  to  do  something  besides 
wait  for  death.  I  have  learned  better  than  to 
make  pictures  out  of  a  world  where  hearts 
beat,  blood  flows,  and  women  weep.  Doing  is 
better  than  dying,  and  I'll  try  to  get  through 
in  a  way  that  won't  shame  the  man  you  looked 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

at  once.  Of  course  you  do  not  know  how  I 
love  you — and  it's  beyond  my  expression  to 
tell  you — or  you  would  never  ask  why  I  want 
to  buy  the  Twin  Bar.  It  is  for  a  stronger  rea 
son  than  cattle-raising.  The  one  woman  I 
love,  and  will  always  love,  I  met  there,  and 
since  she  is  forever  lost  to  me  it  would  please 
me  to  own  the  place  where  she  once  lived  and 
rode  and  laughed — where  I  even  sometimes 
rode  beside  her  and,  smothering  the  ache  in 
my  heart,  laughed  with  her  while  I  told  her 
stories  of  the  mountains.  There  are  so  many 
paths  there  she  loved  to  travel,  so  many  spots 
she  loved  to  frequent.  .  .  .  Juno's  Canon 
and  Painted  Mountain  are  there — the  old 
Piney  Trail  crosses  the  place — the  River 
Road  touches  it Catherine!  " 

As  he  wheeled  from  the  window  there 
was  no  questioning  the  sob  which  shook  the 
shrinking  woman  beside  him.  Her  whole 
form  was  quivering  with  the  emotion  she 
sought  vainly  to  suppress.  Nor  could  there 
be  any  mistaking  the  deep  joy-light  in  her 
swimming  eyes  as  she  half  rose  and  swayed 
impulsively,  helplessly  toward  him. 

"  I — I — forgive  you " 

366 


BALANCE  ALL 

In  an  instant  she  was  in  his  arms,  and  the 
gentle  Lambkin  was  at  peace. 

The  hour  was  late  for  a  man  on  a  busi 
ness  call,  but  he  made  no  move  to  go.  He 
preferred — and  it  suited  her — to  sit  musingly 
by  the  window  and  watch  the  lights  of  the 
pleasure-boats  on  the  river.  There  was  quite 
a  throng  of  them,  for  these  were  the  closing 
days  of  the  launching  season. 

"  I  believe  you  knew  I  loved  you,"  she 
said,  in  sudden  accusation,  and  though  it  was 
good  to  have  him  ease  his  conscience,  she 
could  have  choked  him  when  he  replied 
serenely: 

"  Of  course.  You  don't  suppose  I  could 
have  talked  like  that  if  I  hadn't  known?" 

Merrily  upward  to  their  window  rose  the 
nautical  cries  of  the  boatmen  and  the  laugh 
ter  and  song  of  the  pleasure-seekers.  The 
launch  of  "  Captain  "  Dick  Thorne,  gay  with 
her  many-colored  deck-lights,  presently  came 
puffing  down,  her  lively  passengers  filling 
the  night  with  mirth. 

"  There's  a  man  on  that  launch  I  might 
have  married,"  she  said. 

367 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

"Yes!"  he  mildly  interjected.  "  He 
seems  to  be  having  a  good  time —  That  for 
you?" 

The  winding  note  of  a  horn  had  suddenly 
come  up  to  them.  Captain  Thorne,  when  un 
accompanied  by  his  lady-love,  in  passing  the 
house  on  the  bluff  never  failed  to  stand 
prominently  on  deck  and  give  a  gallant  sa 
lute,  and  he  seemed  to  be  especially  vigorous 
this  evening. 

"  Yes,  it's  his  signal.  I  sometimes  answer 
him  with  this." 

She  took  from  the  wall  beside  her  a 
pretty,  gold-trimmed  instrument,  a  present 
from  Captain  Thorne  for  this  very  purpose. 
Now,  by  all  the  gods,  Lambkin,  you  are  not 
going  to  blow  it!  But  he  did.  He  took  it 
from  her  gently  and  blew  a  long,  ecstatic  note. 

Some  three  weeks  later  a  swarthy  man 
with  a  vicious  eye  rode  into  the  confines  of 
the  Twin  Bar  ranch,  Val  Verde  County, 
Texas,  and  handed  a  letter  to  Mr.  J.  Jimsey, 
Foreman,  whose  gradual  metamorphosis  of 
expression  as  he  read  was  but  little  more  of 
a  spectacle  than  the  gleefully  distorted  fea- 

368 


BALANCE   ALL 

tures  of  the  messenger.  It  required  a  little 
time  for  him  to  grasp  all  the  missive  said, 
and  a  little  longer  for  him  to  gather  the 
proper  amount  of  faith,  but  when,  after  re 
peated  scrutinizations  of  the  bold,  familiar 
hand,  alternated  with  wondering  glances  at 
the  enraptured  Turtle,  now  filling  the  air 
with  corroboration  more  graphic  than  ele 
gant,  the  foreman  realized  that  this  was  true, 
his  behavior  was  like  unto  seven  miracles,  his 
chief  desire  seemingly  being  to  defy  gravity 
and  rise  and  ride  in  the  air  like  a  balloon. 
Indeed,  it  was  not  until  the  Turtle  took  him 
violently  in  hand,  and,  stretching  him  pros 
trate,  sat  resolutely  upon  his  person,  that  he 
became  rational  and  coherent.  For  this  is 
what  he  had  read: 

PERRY,   OKLAHOMA,    November  2Otb. 

"  MY  DEAR  JIMSEY:  This  will  be  handed 
you  by  Mr.  Turtle  Mose,  who  will  under 
take  to  enlighten  you  upon  any  details  about 
which  you  may  be  curious,  and  which  I  have 
not  the  time  to  make  clear  at  this  writing. 
Having  bought  the  Twin  Bar,  I  wish  to  say 
that  you  will  in  future  take  your  orders  from 
me,  though  this  may  not  be  very  agreeable 

369 


BUTTERNUT   JONES 

news.  If  you  will  recall  a  recent  moonlight 
incident  in  Clover  Gulch,  near  Panther  Ford, 
in  which,  owing  to  a  very  natural  mistake,  I 
was  intolerably  embarrassed,  and  which  you 
lost  no  time  in  mentioning  to  every  man  and 
woman  in  Texas,  you  will  understand  that 
you  have  little  to  expect  from  me. 

"  As  it  will  probably  take  all  winter  to 
satisfactorily  dispose  of  my  interests  here,  I 
shall  not  be  down  until  the  spring  months, 
and  meanwhile  you  will  report  to  me  fully 
once  a  week. 

"  Captain  Kitty,  who  for  nearly  a  week 
now  has  been  Mrs.  Jones,  tells  me  that  you 
are  taking  good  care  of  Adjutant  Snuffles, 
which,  I  am  sure,  does  you  much  credit.  I 
wish  at  your  first  opportunity  you  would  move 
Bismarck  and  Terrapin  over,  also  get  my 
books  and  put  them  in  the  east  room  up-stairs. 
Tell  Scotty  that  if  he  has  dog-eared  my  Lorna 
Doone  he  can  expect  a  whalin'  from  me  along 
about  April. 

"  Tell  all  the  boys  we  are  coming. 

"  BUTTERNUT  JONES." 

FINIS  (4) 

37° 


A  NOVEL  OF  REAL  IMPORTANCE. 

The  Law  of  Life. 

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•"  An  impassioned  romance,  told  with  admirable  balance  ;  absorb 
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Mail  and  Express. 

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"JOHN  PHCENIX  HERE  AGAIN/' 

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gotten  names.  What  has  become  of  Sam  Slick,  and  who  remembers 
John  Phoenix  ?  Dialect  was  not  so  complicated  in  those  days  and 
not  so  copious,  and  funniness  did  not  turn  entirely  on  bad  spelling. 
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was  such  hackneyed  fun-making  and  so  much  mechanical  humorous 
writing." — The  Washington  Star. 

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Doctor  Xavier. 

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increasing  interest. 

In  the  character  of  Doctor  Xavier,  the  scientist  all 
but  magician  is  skilfully  depicted,  while  the  subordinate 
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written  tale.  The  fact  that  the  scenes  are  laid  among 
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magic  underlying  the  story. 


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Kronstadt. 

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With  Twenty- six  Colored  Engravings  by  Thomas  Rowlandson.  A  New  Edi 
tion  founded  on  that  published  by  R.  Ackermann  in  the  year  1817.  $1.50. 

"The  Dance  of  Life"  was  written  chiefly  to  exploit  Rowlandson's  fine  plates, 
which  are,  of  course,  the  important  feature  of  the  book. 

Windsor  Castle;  an  Historical  Romance. 

By  W.  Harrison  Ainsworth,  Esq.  Illustrated  by  George  Cruikshank  and 
Tony  Johannot,  with  Designs  on  Wood  by  W.  Alfred  Delamotte.  A  New 
Edition  founded  on  the  Edition  published  by  Henry  Colburn,  1844.  $1.50. 

This  romance  concerns  itself  with  that  fascinating  epoch  of  English  history  em 
bracing  the  courtship  of  Anne  Boleyn  by  Henry  VIII,  her  brief  reign  as  queen,  and 
the  rise  of  Jane  Seymour  as  her  successor.  There  are  twenty-two  full-page  plates  and 
eighty-seven  wood  engravings,"  besides  three  views  of  the  ancient  park  and  castle 
aptly  following  the  suggestions  of  the  text  with  Cruikshank's  usual  felicity. 

The  Fables  of  JEsop  and  Others. 

With  Designs  on  Wood  by  Thomas  Bewick.  A  New  Edition  reproduced 
m  fac-simile  from  the  Editions  printed  at  Newcastle,  1881  and  1823.  $1.50. 

Three  hundred  and  eighty  woodcuts  by  Bewick  accompany  this  attractive  collec 
tion  of  the  celebrated  fables.  Bewick  had  already  come  before  the  world  as  a  wood 
engraver  of  remarkable  dexterity  and  inventiveness. 

OTHERS    IN    PREPARATION. 

D.     APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW     YORK. 


BY   SIR  ARTHUR   CONAN   DOYLE. 

Uniform  Edition*    Each,  J2mo.    Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  Exploits  of  Brigadier  Gerard. 

A  Romance  of  the  Life  of  a  Typical  Napoleonic  Soldier. 

41  Good  stirring  tales  are  they.  Remind  one  of  those  adventures  indulged 
in  by  '  The  Three  Musketeers.'  Written  with  a  dash  and  swing  that  here  and 
there  carry  one  away." — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

Rodney  Stone. 

"  A  notable  and  very  brilliant  work  of  genius." — London  Spectator. 

"  Dr.  Doyle's  novel  is  crowded  with  an  amazing  amount  of  incident  and 
excitement.  ...  lie  does  not  write  history,  but  shows  us  the  human  side  of 
his  great  men,  living  and  moving  in  an  atmosphere  charged  with  the  spirit 
of  the  hard-living,  hard-fighting  Anglo-Saxon." — New  York  Critic. 

Round  the  Red  Lamp. 

Being  Facts  and  Fancies  of  Medical  Life. 

"  A  strikingly  realistic  and  decidedly  original  contribution  to  modern  lit 
erature." — Boston  Saturday  Evening  Gazette. 

The  Stark-Munro  Letters. 

Being  a  Series  of  Twelve  Letters  written  by  STARK-MUNRO,  M.B., 
to  his  friend  and  former  fellow  student,  Herbert  Swanborough,  of  Lowell, 
Massachusetts,  during  the  years  1881-1884. 

"  Cullingworth,  a  much  more  interesting  creation  than  Sherlock  Holmes, 
and  I  pray  Dr.  Doyle  to  give  us  more  of  him." 

— Kichard  le  Gallienne  in  the  London  Star. 

A  Duet,  with  an  Occasional  Chorus. 

' '  Charming  is  the  one  word  to  describe  this  volume  adequately.  Dr.  Doyle's 
crisp  style  and  his  rare  wit  and  refined  humor,  utilized  with  cheerful  art  that  is 
perfect  of  its  kind,  fill  these  chapters  with  joy  and  gladness  for  the  reader." 

—Philadelphia  Press. 

"  Bright,  brave,  simple,  natural,  delicate.  It  is  the  most  artistic  and  most 
original  thing  that  its  author  has  done.  We  can  heartily  recommend  'A  Duet' 
to  all  classes  of  readers.  It  is  a  good  book  to  put  into  the  hands  of  the  young 
of  either  sex.  It  will  interest  the  general  reader,  and  should  delight  the  critic, 
for  it  is  a  work  of  art.  This  story  taken  with  the  best  of  his  previous  work 
gives  Dr.  Doyle  a  very  high  place  in  modern  letters." — Chicago  Times-Herald. 

Uncle  Bernac. 

"    A  Romance  of  the  Empire. 

"  Simple,  clear,  and  well-defined.  .  .  .  Spirited  in  movement  all  the  way 
through.  A  fine  example  of  clear  analytical  force." — Boston  Herald. 

"  From  the  opening  pages  the  clear  and  energetic  telling  of  the  story  never 
falters  and  our  attention  never  flags." — London  Observer. 

D.     APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


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